


Broken Wings and Mended Hearts

by IamtheOther5am



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Lots of pairings, Nessian - Freeform, Post-A Court of Mist and Fury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamtheOther5am/pseuds/IamtheOther5am
Summary: After the traumatic events in Hybern, Nesta Archeron finds herself stranded in the log cabin with Elain. Now High Fae, and desperate to get some answers, she demands the attention of the Inner Circle.





	1. Chapter 1

That cabin. That damned, insufferable, _perfect_ little cabin.

Mor had brought myself and Elain here in the aftermath of our making, told us that we’d be safe and that, if we needed anything, the cabin would take care of the rest. That was it. She’d offered us the briefest of smiles and turned on her heels, rushing out of the door and yelling back that she’d see us again in a day or two.

And now, six days had passed, or, at least I _think_ it was six days. I’d tried to keep track of the number of sunsets since we’d arrived, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if this place had tricked us. Seemed just like the kind of thing those Fae might do. A joke, at our expense. Or, _my_ expense, since Elain had hardly done anything, said anything in all this time. She sat most days on her bed, wrapped up in that redhead’s jacket, sniffing the collar in hopes of determining his scent. His. Scent. _Honestly_ , I rolled my eyes so hard at the thought that I nearly blinded myself. She claimed she could smell pumpkin and crisp autumn air. All I could smell was crazy.

So I left her, sitting on one of the twin beds in the second bedroom, staring out of the window at the snow covered mountains, and returned to the living room. The cosy furniture, the roaring fire…it all irked me. I wanted to rip it to pieces with my newfound strength. In fact, the way I was feeling, I was in a good mind to tear the entire cabin piece by piece, until all that remained were the tiniest of splinters. I felt like I could run outside and scream, opening my lungs to take a deep, hearty breath with my new and improved body, and blow the place away. That’d show them.

I hated myself for it. These people, these friends of my little sister, they had taken us away from that cauldron, from that king…they were keeping us safe. I ran my fingers through my hair as I sighed, and shuddered as they brushed against my ears. My…High Fae gently pointed ears. I had been made. Elain had been made. I hadn’t been able to protect her. I hadn’t been able to protect either of my sisters, now. I was as bad as my father.

I shed a tear, one stubborn, painful tear, thinking back to the days when I would sit around, waiting for him to get himself out of that chair and go make some money. Feed his children. He never did, so I never did. Feyre. The baby of the family. _She_ did. I shook my head.

_Selfish, selfish, selfish._

I grabbed a broom handle and pounded it against the walls and the furniture. Nothing happened. Someone _must_ have been able to hear me, surely? I dropped the broom and leapt onto an overstuffed chair.

“Is anybody there? Can _anybody_ hear me?” I yelled towards the ceiling, my hands now curled into fists and thumping against the tops of my legs, “Mor? Hello? It’s been _a lot_ longer than two days!” I waited for a response, and glanced over at Elain, who had climbed off the bed and now stood motionless in the doorway, still clutching that damned jacket.

“Maybe she’s busy?” she offered, with a shrug of those fine-boned shoulders.

“Or maybe she’s ignoring us,” I snapped, entirely too aggressively for such a simple question, “Maybe they’re intending on leaving us here for a few months…or even a year-”

“Oh, Nesta…”

“Nesta, _what?”_  

She sighed. My sister was tired of me. _I_ was tired of me, of my voice and my attitude. “We’re safe, that’s all that’s important right no-”

“No, it’s not!! There are… _other_ things that are important.”

Elain pushed herself away from the doorway and took a step towards me, her usually serene face lined with weariness. “Such as…?”

I felt my cheeks flush. That hadn’t happened before. She caught sight of them for a brief moment before I got myself under control and felt the pink drain out of my face again, then opened my mouth to speak. 

There was a knock at the door.

I spun around, grateful for the interruption, and jumped off the chair and ran to it, yanking the heavy door open in one swift motion.

“Hello,” Mor yelled over the blizzard outside. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her blonde hair falling perfectly on either side of her face. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to come back, things have been…erm, _hectic_.” She shivered in the biting snow and smiled again, “May I come in?”

“Oh, ye…yes, of course,” I mumbled, stepping out of her way. 

She stomped over the threshold, brushing powdery snow off the shoulders of her thick red woollen coat, and headed straight into the living room. “Hmm, that fires looking a bit lacklustre,” she frowned, and within moments, it roared into vibrant life. _That_ made me feel even worse. I couldn’t even keep a fire going without Feyre’s help. She unbuttoned and shed the coat with such speed, such effortless grace that I was momentarily taken aback. “So, how are you both doing?”

“Well we-”

“We’re angry, Mor,” I growled, interrupting Elain’s no-doubt more tactful response. “You dumped us here, days and days ago, and since then we’ve heard nothing! Not a peep, not from you, from Feyre…even Rhysand.”

“I know,” the blonde replied, sweeping into the kitchen area and snatching up the instantly whistling kettle from the stove. “We’ve had a lot of things to take care of, and-”

“That’s not good enough! Look at us! We needed help, not abandonment!”

Mor poured hot water into three mugs that simply appeared by her side, then replaced the kettle and held up her hands, “I’m sorry, Nesta, but after what happened with the King of-”

“Fuck the king!" 

” _Nesta!_ “ Elain gasped, her hand slamming against her chest. 

"Yeah, you…erm…wouldn’t want to do that,” Mor said, giggling awkwardly. A desperate attempt to thaw the icy atmosphere that I had created. She watched as I leaned back against one of the cabinets and dropped my head, then she moved to stand opposite me. 

I stared for a long time at her chunky snow boots; white calf suede with thick brown laces, and a cosy fur trim. I liked them a lot. “We’re trapped, Morrigan. We both went through an awful, horrible experience and you just left us here. And now…you’re not telling us anything at all.” I lifted my gaze to meet hers and sighed, “I’m crawling the walls, whilst my dear sister…” I threw a glance at Elain, still hovering on the edge of the room, “pines for that High Fae wimp.”

“He is _not_ a wimp!” Elain sniped, and rushed over to us, dropping the jacket on the countertop. “Have you heard from him? Is he all right?” she asked. I could feel the desperation in her voice.

Mor shook her head, glumly, and then turned back to me. “Shall I see if I can find out a few things for you? Would that help?”

“Yes, please,” Elain smiled, “We’d appreciate that.”

“No, actually,” I said, pulling my chin up and my shoulders back, “I’ve had enough of this. I want to speak directly to Rhysand.”

“Oh, right…” Mor looked hurt, like I’d dismissed her. Good. “If that’s what you’d prefer, I’ll…let him know you wish to deal with him.” She scrambled her things together, made sure that the steaming mugs of water were now aromatic tea, and hurried off.

“Mor,” Elain said, her voice softly pleading, as she followed the blonde High Fae to the door. “We’re both _very_ grateful for what you’ve done for us…for all of the Night Court have done, but Nesta-”

“Nesta doesn’t want third in command,” Mor shrugged, “She wants to deal with the High Lord himself, and I can’t blame her.” She offered Elain a sweet smile and squeezed her hand. “I’ll fetch Rhys as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

I heard the whistling wind as she opened the door. And with that, she was gone.

Elain stomped over to me, scooped up Lucien’s jacket, collected her mug of tea, and disappeared back into the bedroom. The slamming door made the whole cabin shudder, and a part of me almost wished it’d caused an avalanche to bury me under, but alas, the cabin remained standing.

* * *

 

Three more days passed, without so much as a word from anyone. I had begun to feel like I was being punished for my attitude towards Mor. I didn’t think she was the type to take things personally, but stranger things have happened…like me becoming one of _them_.

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw that room, that cauldron. I saw the plain face of the King who used me and my sweet sister to demonstrate the cauldron’s power to those mortal queens. Those vile, narcissistic queens who made a deal with the devil himself, all for the sake of living forever. The thought made me want to throw up.

Closing my eyes to the night allowed all of the sounds of screaming and pleading to leak out, and devour me, all over again, just like that cauldron’s liquid had. It had seeped into my entire being, suffocating and consuming me, before it spat out this Fae shadow I saw before me in the mirror. I could hear Feyre, strong as always, trying to protect me, trying to protect Elain. And Cassian… _Wake up, wake up, wake up_.

So I did.

I glanced across at Elain, sleeping peacefully in the bed next to me. I envied her. I knew she was probably dreaming about the redhead, the High Fae male who she’d known for all of twenty seconds, but had shown her more kindness than any human man had done before. I wished my dreams had been filled with wonder and declarations of love, instead of the declaration of vengeance I had aimed to the king. I wondered if I had recited the words aloud in my sleep, but Elain never said anything.

I sighed and threw the warm, soft covers back, exposing my bare legs to the cold mountain air before wrapping a towelling robe around myself. With every step my bare feet took on the wooden floor, the cabin seemed to thaw a little, so that by the time I’d slipped out of the bedroom and reached the living area, I was toasty warm.

I yanked the sash and began to let the robe fall from my bare shoulders when a deep, sensuous voice drifted towards me from behind.

“I wondered when I’d get to see the full show.”

I gasped and spun around, clutching my robe. I was surprised to note my eye sight was sharp as a tack in the darkness. “Ca…Cassian?”

He chuckled under his breath, and I could’ve sworn he seeped into the night and disappeared. “Did you miss me?” he purred.

I pulled my shoulders back and let go of the robe, allowing it to open as much as it wanted. My nightdress was short, revealing. _This’ll show him, knock him off his pedestal_.

“I take that as a yes,” he smiled, appearing before me, a little closer, before vanishing into thin air once more.

“Will you please stand still, Cassian!” I said in an angry whisper. He chuckled again. Prick.

“Does…” he appeared again, splayed out on the kitchen table, “…this…” Now sat on the sofa, “…upset you?” He was behind me, near the bedroom doors.

I spun around and raised a finger of silent warning.

“Or…does it…unnerve you?” Now he stood to my left, his body achingly close as he looked down on me, probably right down my nightdress, in fact. Bastard. His voice was like pure honey, and he knew it. I loathed him.

“No,” I said slowly, turning to face him, my eyes locking on to his. “It just pisses me off.” I poked him in the chest with my index finger and he took a few steps back, opening those incredible wings of pure darkness. _Wings_.

“Hang on…” I shook my head, gaping at this beautiful man and his perfect wings. “Your…wings…they were…”

He didn’t say a word, only marched back towards me with sheer animal intent in those hazel eyes, ran his long fingers up my neck and into my hair and pulled me into a kiss. The greatest, most passionate kiss I had ever had. A wonderful, glorious kiss…the best kiss anyone would probably ever have…

“Nesta! _Nes-ta!_ ” Elain said, shaking me.

I awoke and immediately sat up in my bed. A dream. _Thank goodness_. Just a dream. I shook my head. “Wh..what time is it?”

“It doesn’t matter what time it is,” she said, releasing a sigh, “We have a visitor.” With that, she spun on her heels and disappeared out the door.

I could hear muted conversation as I climbed out of bed, _Mor?_ Had she forgiven my bluntness and returned? I quickly dressed in what can only be described as skimpy silk pyjamas, and arranged my hair in a messy bun as I left the bedroom. Mor was indeed back, her beautiful flowing blonde hair shinier than ever in the early morning sun, but she wasn’t the focus of my attention. There, now risen from an overstuffed chair beside her, was the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand.

“Hello, Nesta,” he smiled.

“About time,” I replied.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhysand smirked at me and shook his head, “Delightful as always, I see.”

I shrugged. “I’m nothing if not consistent.”

“Indeed.” He raised his eyebrows and turned to Mor, “So my third in command is not good enough for you?”

“No.”

“Well, you asked for me, and here I am.” He held his arms out and then clasped them behind his back. “What can I do for you, Nesta?”

I stepped forward and copied his posture. My eyes fell on some of the paintings scattered around the cabin. “You can start by telling me where my sister is.”

“She’s about ten feet to your right,” he smirked again. I wanted to thump him.

“Hilarious,” I groaned, as Elain hovered in the corner of my vision, sipping cocoa at the kitchen table. “You _know_ which sister I mean.”

His infuriating expression morphed into blankness. “I’m…afraid I can’t tell you that.” He gulped and glanced at Mor for a split second, probably hoping that I’d missed it, but I latched on to that tell-tale sign.

“Where is she?”

“She’s all right,” Mor smiled, holding her hands up as if trying to fire out some calming spells. “She’s absolutely fine.”

I ignored her. “I lost my sister once, Rhysand, I won’t stand for it again. Tell me where she is.”

“I cannot divulge that information, Nesta. I’m sorry.” I knew those last two words were meant to be a full stop on the end of the conversation. He gave me a look that said ‘drop it’, but it just made me more determined.

“The last thing I remember was hearing her tell that lion-man that you’d tricked her, had her under some horrible spell, and that she wanted _him_ to take her home. Are you going to let me believe that everything she said there was true?”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably but said nothing.

I glared at him, frankly shocked by his silence. “You’re honestly going to let me… _and Elain_ , believe that, despite _everything_ we saw between you two when you visited our home, it was all lies?” He fought to keep his composure. I was done with tip-toeing around the issue, and huffed, “She’s with _him_ , isn’t she? The beast?”

His eyes flickered.

“Is that where she _wants_ to be, Rhysand?”

He pulled his shoulders back and fixed his focus on me. “Stop asking questions about Feyre.”

“Oh, so you remember her name, at least,” I pouted, “I guess we should be grateful for small mercies.”

He sighed.

Mor held back a chuckle.

I felt my next words catch in my throat, “Are we ever going to see her again?”

“Of course,” he whispered. I could have sworn I felt the cabin walls creak with sympathy. “When it’s safe to do so, you will see her, talk to her…you will be reunited with your sister, I promise.” He rolled his lips, silently pleading with me to acknowledge this good news. I simply nodded. “And his name is Tamlin.”

“Pardon?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The… _beast_.”

“Oh, I know his name,” I frowned, before a smile curled my lips, “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

He wrinkled his nose. Was that a hint of approval of my sneaky tactics?

“Any news on Lucien?” Elain chipped in, lifting her hand like an eager school girl. I rolled my eyes.

Rhysand turned to her, his demeanour immediately more courteous. “Nothing specific, but he is with Feyre, so they will look after each other, I’m sure.”

“Do you honestly believe _that?_ ” I asked, moving to stand behind Elain to hijack his attention. My voice was starting to annoy me, so goodness knows how much it must’ve been grating on everyone else. “He hasn’t been any kind of friend to her recently, what makes you think he’ll look after her now?”

He held his hands up in my little sister’s direction and smiled softly, calming her down. I could see why Feyre loved him; he had an enchanting air of mystery, and a face of pure dark beauty. “Well, first of all, _she’s_ more likely to look after _him_. And secondly, he will help because she is the sister of his mate. He is bonded to your family, now, no matter what, and believe me, that makes a male act _very_ differently.” He forced down a lump that was suddenly lodged in his throat, “And…and I saw a lot of good in Lucien when we were Un…Under the Mountain. He cares deeply for her, of that I’m certain.”

Elain grasped my hand that now dropped onto her shoulder, and looked up at me. “I believe him,” she whispered.

I stared down at her, my face etched in stone. I didn’t move a muscle, except to raise my eyes back to him. “Fine. I’ll accept your word on that.”

His shoulders relaxed and I could’ve sworn I saw a bead of sweat run down his sculpted temple.

I was shocked by how on-edge I could make the High Lord of the Night Court feel. Wasn’t this the male they claimed to be the most powerful High Lord who ever lived? He was practically quivering in my presence. _It’s not_ you _, Nesta, it’s because his mate is in enemy territory. He’s probably scared_. I swallowed my pride and spoke softly, thoughtfully, “How are _you_ , Rhys?”

Elain nearly fell off her chair, and Mor’s head snapped back to look at her High Lord.

“I…erm, I’m all right. Coping. Thank you for asking.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “You took some heavy hits in that castle -”

He laughed under his breath, “If you’re enquiring about Cass -”

“I wasn’t!” I snapped. He grinned. “I was enquiring about _your_ health, and that of _all_ the other members of the Night Court. Nobody else in particular.” I looked at Mor and petulantly asked, “How is Azriel?”

“He’s getting better,” she replied, chewing on her bottom lip and pretending that I wasn’t asking just to piss off Rhysand. “Taking it steady, but he’ll be fighting fit again in no time.”

Rhysand rolled his lips and began to slink forwards. I felt Elain’s shoulders tense up. “Y’know, he’s been asking after you.”

“Has he, now?” I stood a little taller and lifted my chin in the air, knowing full well who he was talking about. “And did you tell him the truth? How you dumped us here on this damned mountain and left us, with no one around to show us how to live in these new bodies?” I lifted my hands up and studied my palms. My fingers were longer, slenderer. “No help or guidance on what we can do…or what we _can’t_ do.”

He frowned. “Such as?”

“Can we die?”

“Not easily.”

“Can we…fly?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can we get out of this place?”

“When the time is right, yes.”

“Can I see Cassian?” My eyes nearly popped out of my head and my face turned a delightful shade of red. _Damn him_.

Rhysand grinned like a Cheshire cat and turned to his third in command. I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear, or perhaps curl my new Fae hand into a fist and wallop him with it. “It seems the time is right,” he said to Mor, before returning to look at me and my sister. “Very well, let us make the necessary arrangements, and then you can join us at the House of Wind.”

Elain spluttered her cocoa and laughed as she slammed her mug down, “The House of… _Wind?_ Who on earth named it _that?_ ”

I chuckled under my breath as my cheeks returned to their normal colour. I was enjoying my sister poking fun at this high and mighty male.

He shrugged and looked at us both with an infuriatingly disinterested face. “Who knows, but unless you’d prefer to stay here in this cosy mountain hideaway by yourselves for the foreseeable future, I’d suggest you _not_ make fun at our expense?”

Elain clamped her mouth shut. I just glared at him.

He sucked in air through his teeth and I could’ve sworn I saw the dark outlines of his wings. He was demonstrating his power, I knew he was, letting us know our place within his Court. At the bottom. I didn’t argue, but simply softened my features into a kind of half-smile and looked at him, then Mor.

She clapped her hands together and grinned, “Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Staying with us makes the most sense anyway, if we’re to teach you how to be…well, _Fae_ , I suppose.”

I gave a sharp nod and turned towards the kitchen sink, wrapping my hands around the edge of the counter top as I looked out of the window. The mountains were covered in a fresh layer of snow, which seemed unnaturally bright white against the cloudless blue sky. “How much longer do we wait?”

“We’ll be back by the end of the day,” Rhysand said, “Let you make your dramatic entrance under a veil of stars.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Elain beamed just as I turned and opened my mouth to offer a sarcastic comment. She grabbed Lucien’s jacket from the back of another dining chair and hugged it close. “See you tonight.”

* * *

 

I found myself standing beside the fireplace, waiting for the day to turn into the evening and finally night so we could get out of this place. I had nothing to pack, nothing to gather up…no trinkets or tokens of anybody’s affection. Nothing. All I had was myself, the clothes on my back, and Elain. Dear, sweet Elain. For a brief moment I wondered if her naïve view of the world…of _men_ , had rubbed off on me, causing me to care about someone who was probably just trying to score points with his friends. I shook my head. _He’s not like that, Nesta, and you know it._

“Do I?” I said aloud.

The logs on the fire crackled and shifted, sending delicate sparks of ash and ember floating upwards, riding on the air that twisted and swirled up the chimney into the cold evening air. I felt a shadow of warmth come over me, stalking towards me. The faint outline of wings, of shoulder length hair and that cursed smile.

_“Who hurt you?”_

He did care. Dammit, _why_ did he have to care? It was so much easier when I could tease him and talk down to him as I stared up at those intense hazel eyes. But I could feel him in front of me right now. I could feel the warmth of his chest as he tried desperately to contain the fire that was pressing to get out, _demanding_ it. The fire that would, without question, have been unleashed on Tomas Mandray, for what he’d tried to do to me.

A part of me that was unnervingly close to the surface wished I’d let him do it, but I’d been too swept up in the presence of that Illyrian warrior…that tall, supremely handsome male with a body covered in tattoos. I’d fooled myself into thinking a kiss would be enough, and that once he had that, once he’d born witness to that part of me, he’d leave me alone.

I couldn’t do it though, so I’d let his breath caress my skin instead. I’d let his lips fall against my neck. I’d offered myself to him, by _not_ offering myself to him.

 _Oh, Nesta, what_ are _you talking about?_

“Heaven knows,” I scoffed, watching the flames of amber and gold dance in the fireplace. I crouched down and threw another log on top of the blackened pile. “It probably meant nothing to him.” I shook my head, and rose to my feet. I suddenly felt the stroke of his thumb against the back of my hand. “Or maybe it did.”

* * *

Rhysand and Mor returned a couple of hours later, knocking on the door as if _we_ owned the place, and greeting us with warm smiles in the freezing cold night air.

“Ladies,” he said as he stepped inside, rubbing his hands together to stir some heat from the depths of his body, “Ready to go?”

Elain and I stared at each other. The cabin had given us long cloaks that skimmed the wooden floor; Elain’s a dusty pink with embroidered flowers on the collar, and mine; a deep burgundy red, with small red gemstones stitched into it at regular intervals.  

“I guess so,” I shrugged, and he bowed his head.

“Very well. Elain, you will go with Mor, out of the cabin and beyond the ward. From there, she will winnow you to the House. Nesta,” he said, looking at me, “You and I will follow.”

“Okay.”

Elain hugged Lucien’s jacket like her life depended on it, but looked radiant as she stepped out of the cabin ahead of me. I felt a little overdressed and stuffy in my cloak, but when I followed her out into the night, I had a sudden appreciation for it. The wind was brutal, whipping my hair up into a spiral before dropping it in a mess around my face. I glanced at Elain, and noticed that she had fixed her hair in a braid. _Why didn’t I think of that?_

I wanted to look back at the cabin, at my home for the past however many days, give it a proper goodbye, but I had kicked up such a fuss about being left there, I couldn’t face it. Something deep in the pit of my stomach told me I would wish to return to this solitude one day, however. I dreaded it.

“Shall we?” Rhysand said, extending his hand to me.

I pulled a face.

He withdrew his hand. “Morrigan!” he shouted through the blizzard, and trudged through the deep snow after her.

She was a good thirty feet ahead of us, Elain’s hand in hers, but she turned around and scowled. “ _What_ , dear cousin?”

“Change of plan. It seems Nesta would prefer to travel with you, or…maybe throw me off this mountain, I’m not sure which.” He turned and looked at me, being smothered by my own windswept hair, “Maybe both? Either way, _I_ will take Elain and you ta -”

“ _Oh for goodness sake!”_ I huffed, and grabbed his hand.

Just like that, we were gone.

The cold, unforgiving wind and snow ceased chilling my bones, to be replaced by a warm, gentle breeze that swept me up and gently lowered my feet to the ground as we arrived at the House of Wind. That veil of stars really did make for a memorable entrance. It was…simply enchanting.

“Thank you,” I whispered to Rhysand, who slowly released my hand and took a step back, his head bowed. I expected to hear Mor and Elain come up beside us, but they were nowhere to be found as we stood on a wide stone balcony, by a wall of open glass doors. “Where are they?”

He flicked his head backwards and spoke softly, “They landed further down. I thought you might like some privacy -”

I gasped, my eyes wide. Deep blue swathes of organza billowed from the open doors to my right, and I took in a breath of air through my nostrils, “No, no, Rhysand, I can’t…I don’t -”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He held his hands out in protest and glanced across at the room beyond, bathed in darkness, save for a column of moonlight that cut across the floor. “I told you he’s been asking for you, Nesta, I wasn’t kidding about that, but it’s all right. Please…” He dropped his head, then looked at me, pleading, “Just see him.”


	3. Chapter 3

I gulped down a breath of air, my eyes darting between Rhysand and the open doors. He stared at me when I turned away completely, to look out over the city below. Lamplights in neat parallel lines bisected the landscape, creating a grid pattern that stretched for miles in both directions. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything like it, anything as strangely beautiful and full of life. Beyond that, a deep inky black body of water held the city back.

“Velaris,” Rhysand whispered.

I gazed upon it, and I was certain he was waiting for me to remember. Then I did. “The orb… _this_ was what you showed to the mortal queens. The secret you gave up, to keep our mortal world safe.”

“Yes,” he nodded, as I offered him a quick glance. “And it is so precious to me, just like my friends…and my mate.”

I felt a lump rise up in my throat at the thought of what he’d sacrificed, and what my sister had, too, so I turned back to the city below. The white stars in the night sky reflected faintly in the water, and I felt it. I instantly knew this was my home. I felt safer and more protected than I ever had before…except for my moment with Cassian at the manor house. I sighed. _Cassian_.

I dropped my head and wrapped my arms around myself. “All right, I will see him.”

He offered me a faint but heartfelt smile, and held his arm out towards the open doors, the organza still rippling in the breeze. “He will be so happy you’re here, Nesta.” I acknowledged his words, and he gave my hand a squeeze, before he faded into the night sky and was gone.

I turned and took a hesitant step forward, my fingers clutching the red gemstones on my collar. I felt sick. I didn’t know what to expect when I stepped through the doors. A small part of me still clung onto the idea that this was all some cruel trick being played on me; a way to get back at me for being so discourteous towards the High Lord and his friends…for being so cold towards my youngest sister. Just dangle the idea of this Illyrian warrior wanting, no, _needing_ me, and I would simply come running. The more steps I took, however, the more I realised that it wasn’t about that at all. Cassian had been injured in Hybern, and _I_ was the person he most wanted by his side right now. _You’re so blind sometimes, Nesta._

I walked through the drapes of cool fabric that hung from the ceiling, my fingertips stroking through them as I went, and heard a noise. A low, rumbling, pained groan that halted me in my tracks.

“C…Cas -” I bit my tongue. I couldn’t make out anything in the room from my position on the edge of it, with the moonlight so bright it obscured my night vision, and I wanted to _see_ him before I spoke. I heard the muffled sounds of movement amongst bedsheets, but still couldn’t see anything. I could only feel the cool, comfortable breeze that flowed freely through the room and _out_ of the windows. I frowned at the thought - warm breeze blowing _outside_ , cool breeze blowing _inside_ \- but guessed it must have been a spell of some kind to keep him comfortable.

This was not how I had imagined our first meeting after my making. In my mind, on those long days spent bored at the cabin, I’d pictured us embracing, with him lifting me up into his arms and pulling me into a kiss. He’d survey my face, my perfect Fae features, as I gripped his body tightly. Another kiss, filled with longing and lust, would subside to be replaced by his whispers of “Took you long enough”. I would frown. Then I would kiss him again.

But that’s not what happened.

I moved further into the room and looked around. My vision was finally adjusting, and through the darkness I could see that the space was a very large square, with what I assumed must be dressing and bathing rooms off to the sides. The walls were painted in more of the deep blue, with wide cylindrical columns of white marble spaced out at regular intervals, breaking up the darkness. So dramatic. So Cassian.

The bed was set in the middle, down shallow, wide steps that wrapped around it on three sides. It looked like a theatre stage. I laughed under my breath. _Dramatic indeed_. More swathes of organza obscured the bed, so it wasn’t until I had descended two of the steps down that I caught sight of him.

I gasped. There, in front of me, was a broken man. He was laid on his stomach, his muscular, tanned back to me, and yet he looked weak. I didn’t know how that was even possible. He tried to shift on the bed, but gave up and collapsed back down. That’s when I noticed his wings. _Heavens above!_ The vast, iridescent wings were half open, half closed and were torn, slashed, and had scars on them where sections had managed to heal. They still absorbed what small amount of light from the moon reached this far, but they were pitiful. His identity…his entire reason for being, was wrapped up in those wings and their power, and now they looked almost beyond repair.

I couldn’t help myself, as a tear fell down my cheek, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from wailing. I’d never felt this…this _pain_ before. I’d felt anger and burning rage many times, I knew what they were like, but _this_ …this was new, and it hurt. I scrunched my eyes shut and begged myself to drown in the tears that followed.

“Ne…Nesta?” he mumbled, trying once more to push himself up from the sheets. He managed to glance over his shoulder at me, at my face, and I felt his agony ripple through me. “Nesta,” he sighed, and reached one arm out of the bed. “Please.”

I didn’t hesitate. I rushed over to him and collapsed to my knees beside the bed, taking his hand in both of mine. “Cassian, I…” I stuttered like a fool. “Can you move?”

He rolled his lips and dropped his head onto the mattress so he could face me. “I haven’t so far.” He winced and pressed his other hand against his side. “But I’m…I’m getting better.”

My eyes were wide, “Th…this, is _getting better?_ ”

He huffed out a laugh, “I thought I’d hold out until my nurse arrived.”

I spluttered through my tears and gave him a side-eyed glance, “Oh r…really? When is she due to arrive, then?”

“After you’ve g…gone,” he grinned, and I swear a twinkle of starlight flashed in his eyes.

I laughed, then gripped his hand a little tighter and took a slow breath. I needed to stop whimpering now and be strong. “Do you think you’ll fly again?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “Rhys and Amren are convinced I will but…I don’t know. I’m a mess.”

I lowered my head, bringing myself a little closer to him, and spoke with an unnerving calm, “You _will_ fly again, Cassian. You damn well _must_.”

“Ooh,” he smirked, that twinkle flashing in his eyes again, “Otherwise what will you do, Nesta Archeron?” He raised his eyebrows and then winked at me.

I dropped his hand and stood up straight, smoothing down the lines of my cloak. “There’s only ever one thing on your mind, isn’t there?”

“Well what can I say, when you -”

“ _Don’t,”_ I said, trying to sound strong when I felt anything but. His mouth clamped shut. “Don’t finish that sentence. I’m not in the mood.” What a bare-faced lie. I’d give anything right now to have him leap from that bed and lift me into his arms, and I’d give even more for him to have the strength to pull me onto it.

He inhaled a long breath and began to push himself up onto his elbows. I immediately moved towards him, my arms extended in case he fell.

“Should you be doing that?”

“When I told Rhys that I wanted to see you, I didn’t mean sideways, as I lay on my…stomach.” He growled as he locked his arms straight, and looked ahead at dark fabric headboard whilst he caught his breath.

I bit my lip. My sadness had morphed into rage, and dried up my tears. I could feel it inside me, this burning anger. It started in the pit of my stomach like a volcano, and rose throughout my body, turning my insides to hard stone. If I’d had the King of Hybern in from of me in this moment, I would’ve scorched his flesh, and watched as it slid off his bones.

Cassian was hurting, and I couldn’t get these images out of my mind. _What’s wrong with me?_ _Take care of him, help him._ I still couldn’t shake the thoughts. I wanted to destroy the thing that had caused him such damage. I wanted that king’s head on a spike.

I must have had a look on my face that betrayed my inner feelings, because Cassian turned over with a grimace, and sat up straight, reached out, and hooked his hand around my waist, pulling me towards him.

“Nesta,” he said, looking up at me. I didn’t hear it. “Nesta,” he repeated, giving me a gentle shake. “Where have you gone?”

His hold relaxed a little, so it didn’t feel like he was pulling so much as _asking_ me to move closer. I tumbled out of my waking dream and dropped my head, but his eyes were focused elsewhere; my hands.

I’d scrunched them into fists so tightly that my long fingernails had sunk into my palms, and now blood was dripping slowly, steadily onto the floor. I hadn’t felt it, still didn’t. And even if I had, what were a few cuts in comparison to his injuries?

“Nesta, I didn’t ask you here to pity me or feel sorry for me.” He licked his lips, his eyes big and bright in the moonlight that flickered through the draped fabric around the bed, “I wanted to see how _you_ are s…since your making.”

“I…I’m all right,” I lied, “Never better.” I unhooked his fingers from my waist and stepped back, observing the deep cuts to my hands whilst he looked on. “Of course, I wish Elain and I hadn’t been banished to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, right after. I wish my youngest sister hadn’t disappeared back to that beast’s house for him to do _heaven knows_ what! I…I wish Elain’s mate wasn’t a wimp! A…aside from _that_ , I’m fine.”

He sucked in air through his teeth as he agonisingly spun his legs round, placing his bare feet on the cool stone floor. He gasped for breath and said, “You don’t…” he sighed. I could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully, “You don’t _look_ fine to me.”

“Well, thank you _very_ much. Do you get all the ladies to fall into your bed with lines that good?”

“You _know_ what I mean.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Cassian. I wasn’t born this way.”

“I know, and I -”

“What _do_ you know, exactly?” I scowled. My anger was spilling over onto the one person it wasn’t meant for. “You weren’t made in a fucking _cauldron!!_ ”

“And that is why I’m asking, Nesta! I was there when it happened! And I am aware of how much you didn’t want to end up like this, like…me!” His voice was booming around the room as he patted his chest, and I knew he had a lot more to give.

I groaned. “I was a _mortal_. I never expected to even _meet_ one of your kind, let alone _become_ one! Or have my _sister_ become one!” I yelled, that fire inside me now scorching the backs of my eyes. “It wasn’t a question of not wanting to become Fae, the thought never even crossed my mind!”

“Never?” he barked.

“No, not once.”

“Oh is that so?” He groaned and splayed his fingers on the sheets.

“W…what are you doing?” I frowned.

He ignored me and pushed up off the bed, rising up to the height I had become used to, the height that meant my eyes drew level with his chest. He wobbled a bit, and though I desperately wanted to help him steady himself, I clasped my hands behind my back, forcing him to call upon his own strength.

He gathered himself and shuffled a step towards me, his dark shoulder-length hair falling around his face just…perfectly, and growled, “Did the thought never even cross your mind when I stood in your home, by that fireplace?”

I gulped, but said nothing. He’d shifted the conversation. Prick.

“Or how about when I took your hand and held it right here.” He tapped his chest and watched, waiting for the tiniest flicker of truth to cross my face. “When you had the most powerful Illyrian warrior within your grasp.”

I lifted my chin and blinked slowly. He scoffed. He wanted a challenge, so I was giving it to him.

“Maybe the touch of my lips against your skin…did that not make you even a _little_ curious as to the fun you’d have if you were fae? If you could have that for the next five hundred years?” He took another step toward me, his movements fluid and his wings catching the light, emphasizing their damage, but also their beauty. 

I sighed and looked down at my hands again. 

He breathed out hot streams of air through his nostrils and flashed me a wicked smile, “Well, even if you won’t admit any of that, you must be excited to see what you can do now? Right?”

I shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Would you like me to show you?” he breathed, leaning into me.

“Well…” I lifted my head, my eyes fixed on his full lips as his mouth approached mine. As he drew nearer, I opened my mouth and as he came to within an inch of me, I reached out and patted him on the cheek. “That’s a nice idea, but seen as you’re on your feet for the first time in a week, how about showing me around this place, instead, hmm?”

His eyes searched my face, but then he laughed and pulled back. “You torment me, Nesta Archeron.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” I winked, and brushed my finger lightly down his wing.

He shuddered. I smirked.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you need to put on some more clothes?” I asked, as Cassian strode past me bare chested and began to climb the steps away from his bed, towards the open doors.

He turned around and looked at me, then down at his tattoo-covered torso. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable, Nesta?”

“ _No_.” It took all of my physical strength to stop my throat bobbing. “I just thought we might run into the others at some point.”

“And?” he laughed.

I pulled my shoulders back, not liking his mocking tone, “Doesn’t Rhysand expect a certain level of propriety in his house?”

He shrugged, “I _really_ don’t know.” He turned back to continue his journey and beckoned me to follow, “Let’s go ask him.”

“ _Cassian_ ,” I sighed. “Just put a shirt on…please.”

He paused and spun round to face me, and I could tell he was trying his hardest to hide the sharp pain that travelled the length of his wings as he moved. “Fine. I don’t want you fainting from over-excitement on the tour.”

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms, as he came back down the steps and walked past me with a wicked grin on his face, and headed for his dressing room.

He knew me so well, damn him. He saw through every single word I uttered, recognised the deeper meaning, and played it to his advantage. He relished making me squirm with his brazen flirting, and yet, knowing all of this about him, I didn’t stop. _Why should I?_ If he wished to turn everything into an innuendo, a game, I wasn’t going to ruin his fun. And it _was_ fun.  

He sauntered into the dressing room, where a succession of sconces roared into vivid life, and he began rummaging through rails of clothing. My curiosity got the better of me and I slid forward a few feet to take as casual a glance as I could into the room…but mainly to look at his back. That back. _Heavens_ , I could spend the rest of my days staring at it, and feel like I’d lived a damn good life. It was beautiful, there was no other word for it. I tried my best to overlook his battered wings to gaze at it, all rippling muscles and sun kissed skin, with those black tattoos that covered his shoulders and cascaded down it. He must look so intimidating at full strength. _Of course he does._  

“You know, if you insist on standing there, staring at me, you might as well come in here and _help_ me.”

I yanked myself out of my musing and hurried over, to find him contemplating three shirts; black, navy, and white. Each one was made of fine, expertly woven fabric that shimmered softly in the warm light.

“Which one?” he asked, pointing at them.

I pondered for a moment, taking far more time than was necessary for a simple shirt. He laughed under his breath and I panicked and grabbed the black one.

“Good choice,” he smirked, then picked it up and handed it to me.

“What?” I frowned.

“I need your assistance in putting it on.”

I shoved it towards him, fumbling it into his arms, and growled, “Cassian, you’re getting on my last nerve! Why is everything a joke, a shameless insinuation! Put on your own damn sh -”

“I am _injured_ , Nesta, or have you already forgotten?” he replied, his voice clipped, angry, as he threw the shirt down on top of the others. “Believe it or not, this isn’t me trying to turn this into anything crude, I just…” He sighed and rolled his lips. His eyes held me as he whispered, almost…ashamed, “I just need your help getting dressed.”

My shoulders immediately drooped. I felt foolish. So very, _very_ foolish. _For goodness sake, Nesta!_ My mouth felt like the driest desert and it took a few moments for me to gulp down a breath. “I…I’m sorry,” I murmured, keeping my eyes locked on his. “I’m so sorry.”

He bit his lip and shook his head. “You just have to learn to think before you speak sometimes.”

I nodded. _You foolish woman_. I lifted my hand and placed it against his cheek. We were barely touching, and yet I could feel his raw power pulsing, like a very strong heartbeat. His skin was warm, soft. I felt terrible.

He raised his hand and I half expected him to tear mine away, but he didn’t. Instead, he wrapped his fingers gently around mine, leaned his head into my open hand, and nuzzled against it like a purring kitten. “I don’t know what this is…between us. But whatever it may be, I want you to know that, first and foremost, I am your friend.”

No one had ever said that to me.

He placed a feather-light kiss on my palm and gazed at me, “And I hope you are mine.”

I took a staggered breath and nodded once, twice…a dozen times. “Yes.”

“Good.”

I stroked his cheek and waited for him to release me, at which point he leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead. It was the purest kiss I had ever received, and I knew immediately that I would cherish it, always.

He picked the shirt back up and handed it to me. I offered him a small smile, which he reciprocated, and then he turned around.

His broken wings were right in front of me, closer than they ever had been before. The protrusions where the wings connected to his back were, thankfully, unharmed, but the slashes and tears on the membranes were horrific. There was no blood or anything to show they were a recent injury, though. “How quickly were you treated?” I asked, after building up the courage.

“As soon as we arrived back here,” he said, over his shoulder. “Rhys said that Amren began healing me, whilst Morrigan took you and Elain to the cabin.”

I gulped. That’s why no one else came. There were much more vital problems to deal with. _Selfish, selfish, selfish._

“Rhys was hurt too, so he wasn’t able to help Azriel. Mor began healing him when she got here.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t ask any more questions. As I slowly eased Cassian into each sleeve of the shirt, I was overwhelmed with guilt. I had lambasted these people, I had shouted at them, cursed them for not giving me their attention, and all the while, they had been dividing their group to help us, whilst their own suffered. I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

I continued helping him, hoping it would take my mind off my guilt. The back of the shirt was an interesting feat of design, with slatted fabric that could’ve been mistaken for very neat vandalism. The slats allowed the shirt to skim around the protrusions and fall correctly.

“There are buttons to fasten it,” Cassian said, thumbing behind his back. “Just inside the fabric.”

I found them and fastened them, slowly, trying not to touch his skin. I felt like I didn’t deserve to touch him, to even be here, in his chambers, with the way I had behaved. _I wonder if Mor or Rhys had told him about my attitude?_ It didn’t bear thinking about.

“All done,” I whispered and immediately turned and walked back out into the main bedroom. I needed to get out of here. I ran up the steps and across the floor to the open doors. The breeze had subsided for now, so I flung my arms out to brush the drapes out of my way and rushed over to the balcony wall. I leaned over it and clamped my hand over my mouth, to prevent my pathetic sobs from reaching his ears.  

And they _were_ pathetic, I knew they were. Elain and I had probably only slowed Mor down, prevented her from helping Azriel, for a few minutes, and yet…I felt like _I_ was responsible for his pain. And the images of myself, banging against the ceiling of the cabin with the broom handle…

_Ungrateful, selfish._

The tears didn’t slow, and I wondered if some of this sadness, some of this frustration, might be leftover from my mortal life; from my useless father, and my own selfish, mean spirit. From my loneliness.

I heard shuffling sounds, and winces of pain. Cassian was racing up the steps after me. Pushing through whilst his body screamed at him to stop, to rest, to leave me to it.

"Nesta?" He breathed.

I turned around to face him, my hand still covering my mouth as tears streamed down my face. Without saying another word, he came over to me and surrounded me with his arms, one hand gently resting on the back of my head and pressing me against him. His embrace was comforting, and safe, like a blanket wrapped in iron. 

I shifted my hands, my cries filling the air as I hugged him tight, asking him to hold me closer without having to say it. He did it straight away, and dropped a kiss in my hair. Another sob shook my body, and very softly, he said, "Shhh, it'll be all right. Don't worry." 

It felt like we stood on that balcony protected by the shadow of night, for an eternity. When we parted, Cassian didn’t pry. He simply wiped away my tears with his calloused thumbs and kissed my forehead again.

“Cassian, I -”

He held up a hand, “We will talk, Nesta…but not now.” He brushed a strand of my golden brown hair off my face, tucked it behind my gently pointed ear, and sighed, “I think we need to get away from here; away from my broken wings, your making...all of this _sadness_ , and find something to smile about, laugh about.”

I didn’t need to think it over. I wanted to forget how I felt, even if just for a while. I wanted to laugh. I nodded, and he motioned for me to go with him. We walked all the way along the balcony, stopping now and again to look out over Velaris below. The night was pressing on, and most of the lights from the houses had gone out, leaving the street lamps alone to illuminate the bay.

“You know,” Cassian said, leaning into me as we both stood with our hands resting on the wall, “They call this place the City of Starlight.”

I breathed a long, soft sigh and nodded, “I can see why. it’s just…beautiful.”

“It really is.”

After a few more minutes of gazing out over the slumbering city, I took a step away from the edge and turned on my heels. More open floor-to-ceiling glass doors stood in front of me, their drapes rippling, beckoning me into the rooms. The entire House had a warm amber glow about it, and the distant sounds of chatter, of lively conversation. I yearned to be a part of it. 

I’d always stood on the fringes of everything, never joining in.

Back when our family still had money, father would host night after night of raucous parties, entertaining his friends, his business associates. There had even been a long succession of eligible, handsome men there, all eager to dance with Archeron’s eldest daughter.

They would approach me as I stood by the door, hold out their leading hand and grin at me; that sickly, false smile that always told me that they planned on doing wicked things later that night. I was not amused. I learned to keep my arms folded tightly, and my scowl dared them to try and tempt me away from my spot. I would’ve sooner thrown myself from the roof than dance, drink, or roll around with any one of them.

But here, under this veil of stars, with the warm breeze returning to us, I wanted in. I wanted to laugh, and after all, Cassian _had_ said we would laugh.

Before I knew it, I was heading for the doors.

“Hey,” Cassian said, gently taking my wrist and pulling me back. “Not yet, I want to show you something.”

I began to protest, but he flashed those lovely white teeth at me and tugged me away from the doors, my eyes still fixed on that bright, airy room. As the laughter melted away, I gave in and hurried to his side. He released my hand and we walked back along the balcony, before veering left and entering a very wide hallway, lined with black floor-standing candelabras that looked like elaborate silver ones that had been dipped in black paint. The walls were painted a rich red that should’ve made the room dark and foreboding, but actually made it feel homely.

“Take that off,” Cassian laughed, pointing at me.

“Huh?”

“The cloak, you’re blending in!” He chuckled a mighty laugh. It was the most glorious sound. “Any minute now, you’ll simply disappear into thin air!”

I laughed too, as I raised my arm up against the wall. He was right. I was about to turn into the invisible woman. I unhooked the clasp at the front and shimmied it off my shoulders, dropping it on a high-backed chair. My deep purple silk outfit underneath looked faintly ridiculous in this setting, but the air was a comfortable temperature, and there was no denying they were comfortable, so I didn’t complain.

“Very nice,” he said with a friendly smile, and we continued.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s for _me_ to know, and _you_ to find out.”

I chuckled under my breath.

“What?” he asked, still smiling.

“That’s such a…I don’t know, a… _mortal_ phrase, it sounded odd coming from you.”

He shrugged, “Really? I must’ve picked it up on one of my trips over the wall.”

“Yes, I should expect so,” I nodded, “Still, it was strange. I liked it though…hearing you say it.” I tried to sound as casual as I could, but it made me feel even more connected to him. I felt like all of this; Illyrian warrior, Fae…all of it, seeped away and we were simply two people, two friends, having a conversation. It was comfortable.

Cassian didn’t press the subject, and I was glad. My reaction had been a little silly, but I was going to hold onto those words he said.

We continued down the hallway, passing vast paintings of moonlight, constellations, and even pure darkness, then turned down a wide staircase which curved to the right. Our feet hit the bottom step in unison. We were now in a long, corridor, empty of pictures.

“ _Where_ are we going?” I asked again.

“You’ll see…”

He seemed to be moving more freely, and a crease that had formed down the centre of his brow had faded a little.

“How are you feeling?”

He clasped his hands together and stretched his arms, the light of the corridor highlighting his tanned skin. “I’m better for getting out of bed, it’s really the _worst_ thing to do when you’re injured.”

I began to respond, but he gasped and jumped in front of me, blocking my path through a door. “In case you haven’t already guessed...we’re here.”

“All right,” I said, stepping forward an inch, “Let’s see.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, standing his ground, his face illuminated with mischief, “Close your eyes.”

I clicked my tongue, “ _Cassian_.”

“Do it,” he grinned.

“Fine.” I pursed my lips, but did as he asked, my eyes falling shut.

I was sure he waved his hand in front of my face to check, before taking my hands and walking me into the room. The space was cool, but there was a hint of warmth in the air, like wafts of steam. I took another step forward as he guided me around something. The floor was tiled, and _very_ cold.

“Can I open them now?”

“Yes.”

Bright lights hit me, affecting my vision for a few seconds. I winced and curled my hands into fists to rub my eyes, then opened them once more. I gasped. “A…a _kitchen?!_ ”

He rocked back and forth on his heels and beamed like a fool. “Yep! I don’t know about you, but I am _starving!”_


	5. Chapter 5

I couldn’t help it; I laughed and laughed. This warrior, centuries old, who had spent most of that time fighting bloody battles, was acting like a child who’d never seen snow fall before. His eyes were wide and bright as he approached the deep oak counter tops, where plates of half-eaten meats and cheeses sat, just crying out for this hungry male to devour. He dug in with his fingers, like a ravenous wolf, tearing strips of roasted meat off the bone and shovelling it into his mouth, all the while grinning at me.

“You’re a _fool_ , Cassian,” I giggled when he beckoned me over, his mouth now full of buttery pastry that he’d grabbed from a large silver platter on another counter. “Have they not been feeding you?”

He shook his head and tried to speak, sending crumbs of pastry flying. I frowned in mild disgust, and he held up a finger, forcing the food down his throat. “I simply couldn’t eat a thing, without my dear Nesta around to lift my spirits.”

I slapped my hand against my forehead and laughed, “Oh good grief.”

He gave a hearty laugh in return and pointed at the feast, “Come on, eat!”

I folded my arms in front of me, suddenly unsure. “I’m all right, thank you.”

He tipped his head to one side, chewing on a chunk of ham, and stared at me. He squinted and froze, like he was pondering something.

I pulled my shoulders back, trying in vain to prop up the walls of protection that surrounded me, but there was no point, not really. Cassian had done what no other person had ever done; he’d seen me; I mean _really_ seen me. That day at our manor house, when he’d answered back to me, calling out my selfishness when it came to looking after my family, my stubbornness… _that’s_ when the walls had begun to crumble.

I had known in that moment, that he and I would share something special. I knew we would laugh together, cry together. And ever since then, whenever I locked eyes on this Illyrian, I absorbed more of his darkness, his charm, and I fell further.

And now those hazel eyes looked right through me.

He ripped a leg from a roast chicken and walked towards me, holding it up in front of him. Another giggle burst from my lips, when he stopped a foot away and rocked it, side to side, sending succulent aromas wafting toward my nostrils.

“It’s _really_ delicious, Nesta, you won’t be sorry you tried it.”

“It looks greasy.”

“It’s juicy.”

“I’ll take your word on that, thank you.”

He dropped his shoulders and pouted. “Don’t force me to eat all of this food by myself, because…I _will_.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.”

The chicken _did_ look delicious; he wasn’t lying about that. And try as I might, I couldn’t stop my tongue from running across my lips. That just made him smile wickedly at me, like he was a magician and I was falling for his ludicrous trick.

“It must be hours and hours since you ate,” he grinned, “And I can just imagine you, gazing at that fireplace, yearning for your beloved Cassian. Unable to eat, unable to drink -”

“All right, give me it,” I interrupted, snatching the chicken leg from his hand to shut him up. I bit into it and, _oh my_ , it was possibly the best thing I’d ever eaten. I groaned in delight, savouring the flavours.

“Juicy,” he nodded.

I couldn’t reply, only nod and grunt. I didn’t realise just how hungry I had been until this moment, and now I was going to get every last morsel off this bone.  

Cassian laughed again, and began poring over the mountains of food again, this time making a beeline for the cheeses. Large blocks of the stuff - milky white, orange, blue-veined - were stacked in a ramshackle fashion, with only the very tips of the corners missing. Someone not very hungry had picked at them. I knew immediately that I would detest this person.

He grabbed a knife and sliced a huge wedge of the tastiest looking one, took a bite, and turned back to see me just polishing off my second chicken leg.

“Want some?” he asked.

“Mm hmm,” I nodded with great enthusiasm, my mouth full.

He cut me a smaller piece, though it was still larger than I would’ve ever done for myself, and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I smiled, as I dropped the clean bone onto a plate and took a bite of cheese. _Delicious_. Everything was. I stepped further into the feast and began searching through my options.

There were fruits in every vivid colour imaginable, tarts and miniature pies with sweet and savoury fillings that smelled incredible, a whole salmon, and a four-tiered cake covered in cream, chocolate, flaked almonds, and cherries.

“Was there some kind of function tonight?” I asked, as I spotted some salted crackers hiding behind the pastry platter and scooped up a handful.

Cassian nodded, “Rhys and Mor were hosting the Court of Nightmares, bringing them up to speed on the events in Hybern.”

“The Court of… _Nightmares?_ ” I shuddered. “They don’t sound like the type that would appreciate a feast like this, in my mind.”

“No, they don’t, and they don’t deserve it either, but Rhys likes to indulge them. His relentless hospitality drives Keir mad.”

I walked past him as he smeared some kind of chutney on the cheese and took another bite of it. “Who’s Keir?”

He watched me sit on one of the counter tops, my legs swinging back and forth as I wolfed down a cracker in two bites. “He’s Mor’s father; head of the Court of Nightmares, Rhys’s uncle, and a bastard of the highest order.”

“Oh, I see.” I frowned. His face had changed, transformed into something dangerous and dark. He curled his hands into fists and turned around, placing them wide apart on the counter as his nostrils flared. “Are you all right?”

“Yes…yes I’m fine, I just…” he shook his head, “I can’t stand him.”

I rolled my lips and nodded once, my silent way of telling him I wouldn’t push any further, wouldn’t pry, to which he smiled.

We ate in silence for a while, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. I was surprised by how quickly I was growing accustomed to being around him, and I didn’t feel the need to try and build those walls back up.

Finally, he took one last bite of food and licked his fingers, “Mm! Delicious!”

I chuckled and wiped my hands on a dark blue napkin to my right, then returned my focus to him. “What now?”

“Now? We keep explor -”

“There you two are,” said a silky voice from behind me.

Cassian smiled and I looked over my shoulder to see Rhysand leaning against the doorway, his arms folded.  

“Have they gone?” Cassian asked, stepping backwards to another counter and settling against it.

I turned to see Rhysand nod. “Yes, a few minutes ago.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, but bobbed his head slowly in acknowledgement.

“It’s good to see you on your feet again, my friend,” Rhysand smiled, changing the subject, and then turning his attention to me, “Thank you.”

I stuttered, waving a hand in front of my body, “Oh, I…I didn’t do anyth -”

Rhysand wrinkled his nose and walked into the room, coming to a stop a few feet from me. “Well, whatever the cause of this development, I’m pleased to see he’s out of bed. I need my General back to his best.”

“He’ll get there; I’ll make sure of it.”

The High Lord smiled. “I appreciate your conviction.” He glanced at the food around us, and the bare chicken bones by my side, and smirked. “So, who’s idea was the midnight feast, then?”

“Nesta’s,” Cassian replied immediately. I scoffed and turned to glare at him. He winked, then threw a grape into his mouth and grinned, “She dragged me from my bed and brought me down here. I tried to stop her, but she is _very_ stubborn.”

I scoffed again. “You little liar.”

“Little?!” he gasped.

“That’s what I said.”

“I’m many things, Nesta Archeron,” he said, stalking towards me, “But little, I am _not_.”

“Hmm,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

A cough stopped me from responding. It was probably a good thing. “As entertaining as this courtship dance is,” Rhysand smirked, and looked to me, “Elain has been asking after you.”

“Oh.” I slid off the counter top and dusted the salty cracker crumbs from my hands, and smoothed out my clothes. My words came out a little more severe than I had expected, “Where is she?”

“She’s upstairs with Mor and Amren,” he replied, his voice calm, soothing, “They’re keeping her entertained. Would you care to follow me? I think it’s time we discussed the changes in your lives.”

I gave a short nod and glanced behind me at Cassian. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.” He stood up straight and stumbled slightly, as sharp pains shot across his wings. He grasped the cabinets and steadied himself.

I rushed towards him and opened my arms, ready to assist if necessary. “Cassian, are y -”

He held his hand up to silence me and winced.

It was like being jolted awake from a pleasant dream. The last hour had been fun, talking about unimportant things, and laughing… _so_ much laughing. I had forgotten all about his injuries. Even though his broken wings had been completely visible, I had been so distracted, so momentarily happy…

“I’m all right, Nesta,” he whispered, seeing the sad expression on my face. “Just sore, bruised…”

“He’s got a lot of healing left to do,” Rhysand chipped in, “It’s not going to be instant.”

“Exactly,” Cassian replied.

Both males were looking at me now, and I realised for the first time just how tall they both were, how dark their hair was, how tanned their skin was, and found myself feeling a little better. Cassian was standing up straight, again, his face free from pain, and Rhysand didn’t look worried, so why should I? _Because you_ always _worry_.

“Let’s go,” I said, and so we did.

* * *

 

Walking into one of the vast living spaces one floor up, I knew this was the place I had been so desperate to enter earlier on; the place where the conversation had sounded light and fun. The candelabras and chandeliers were all topped with gently swaying flickers of flame; bright and inviting against the night that encroached from the glass doors beyond. The walls were silver, and covered in more paintings of night time, stars, and moons, and large, imposing pieces of dark wood furniture stood below. In the middle of the room, a huge circular arrangement of comfortable chairs, scattered with throws and pillows, greeted us. Sat sinking into the soft cushions were Elain, Mor, and the woman I assumed must be Amren.

Whilst my sister and Mor sat with their backs to us, deep in conversation, she looked at us, or more specifically _me_ , with a sideways glance past her dark hair and long eyelashes. I knew what she was doing. I’d never met her before but I knew. As I strode across the vast cool stone floor, trying to appear relaxed as my fingertips twitched, desperate to hold onto something for safety, it was clear that she was sizing me up. There was no doubt she’d been told the stories of my attitude.  

“Nesta!” my sister yelled, leaping from her chair and running over to me.

“Dear sister,” I sighed as she pulled me into a hug and squeezed. I smelled her hair. I was definitely home, now.  

“Hello,” she smiled at Cassian when we parted.

“Nice to see you again, Elain,” he replied, returning her warm gesture. “How are you?”

“Oh Cassian, I should be asking _you_ that question.”

He waved her off. “I’ll live.”

She giggled and took my hand, pulling me towards the cluster of chairs. “Come and sit. We have so much to discuss.”

I waved at Mor, who did the same in return, her smile warm and friendly. She really was stunning, but I had a strange sense of impending doom when I looked at her for too long, so I tore my eyes away.

“Before we do that,” Rhysand interrupted, and extended his palm in the direction of the mysteriously beautiful woman. “Let me introduce you to Amren, my second in command.”

“Hello,” she said, moving her eyes up and down my body as she sat with one leg crossed lazily over the other.

“Hello,” I replied, copying her eye movements. A grin tugged at one corner of her mouth. Had I just entered myself into a challenge?

“Please, ladies,” the High Lord said with such sarcasm, “Save some of this sparkling conversation for later.”

We stared at each other.

“About time you climbed out of that bed,” a voice travelled from the far corner of the room. Azriel. I hadn’t even known he was there.

A broad smile immediately spread on Cassian’s face and they walked towards each other, embracing as best they could without Cassian’s wings being touched.

“What can I say? I was waiting for my champion to rescue me,” he laughed and winked in my direction.

I felt my cheeks flush.

“How about you? How are the injuries?”

Azriel shrugged and pointed at Mor, “Taken care of.”

“Good to hear it.”

Elain grabbed my hand and tugged it down, and my eyes followed. She patted the cushion next to her and whispered, “Sit.”

“Well, now that we’re all here -”

Cassian held up his hand, as Azriel handed him a large glass of some kind of alcohol. “Sorry Rhys, but before we talk about anything else, what did Keir say?” I saw his eyes flash in Mor’s direction, and her shoulders raised and lowered before tensing up.

Rhysand clasped his hands behind his back and licked his lips, “He wasn’t much help. Says he and _his court_ don’t want the hassle.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian huffed, “He’s keeping his options open, isn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.”

“And I hope you told him to remember who is High Lord of this Court?”

Elain and I switched our attention back and forth, as if watching two people hitting a ball to each other.

“We need diplomacy right now, Cas.”

“We _need_ to fight, Rhys.”

The High Lord sighed loudly, and scratched the side of his nose. “We don’t have the resources ready yet.”

“So, when do I start my training?” I spoke up, my voice strong and defiant. All of the people in the room turned to look at me. Amren laughed lightly under her breath, and began running her dark purple fingernails along a string of beads around her neck.

“Nesta,” Elain breathed. I glanced at her as she shook her head, her fingertips curling around my bare arm. I scowled and then I spotted that damned jacket tucked away safely beside her. She probably hadn’t let that thing out of her sight since we arrived.

“Do you _want_ to train?” Rhysand asked, sincerely.

“Of course I do,” I snapped, wrenching my head round to stare at him. His eyes grew wide. It seemed as if my walls had fallen for Cassian, but Rhysand still stood staring up at the battlements.

I held out my long, slender arms, and fingers, and looked down at myself. “I’m no longer mortal, so I can train, I can fight. I have power, don’t I?”

Rhysand nodded. “If my hunch is correct, you have a lot.”


	6. Chapter 6

“What are you thinking?” Mor asked Rhysand, as she leaned forward and clasped her hands around her knee.

He paused. His eyes - which I only just noticed were violet – scanned every face in the room, lingering on each of us in turn. Then he spoke. “I don’t know how her making has affected her, exactly, but I…” He focused on me, and I felt a tingling down my spine. “I believe, Nesta, that when you swore revenge against the king…” He stopped again, observing my face as the moment came flooding back to me. “I think the cauldron may have picked up on that…it may have listened.”

“In what way?” I probed.

“Well…” Amren rose from her chair and stood beside her High Lord. She clasped her hands together in front of her and continued, her voice softer than I would have expected, “Legend has it that the cauldron takes the essence of the mortal, and uses that to decide how to,” she winced lightly, “How to _remake_ them.”

“Goodness,” Elain whispered.

“It will use your own personality, your own traits, to create a unique Fae version of yourself. So, it would stand to reason that you will be different to, say, myself, or Mor, or even Elain.”

“How might I be…different?” my sister asked. Her eyes were shiny with tears. I imagined that this was all quite overwhelming for her.

Rhysand smiled at her, “We won’t know the depths of your changes until we begin training, but I would be surprised if, for example, you were a warrior. I don’t think that’s in your personality.”

Elain looked a little disheartened at his words. _Did she_ want _to be a warrior?_ I gulped and rested my face on my hand. Cassian walked slowly behind the chairs and squeezed my shoulder. I could sense him gazing at me, as his broken wings cast a comforting shadow over me, but I didn’t move. “So _how_ will the training tell us the cauldron’s effects?”

“It should be relatively straight forward to work out, once we get started,” Azriel chipped in, as he came round to sit next to Mor. She patted his hand and smiled cautiously, which he reciprocated. “As you train and learn, your body and mind will naturally push any capabilities to the front, to aid you in some way.”

“Whatever they may be,” Amren added. “If you have a talent for, say, taking care of things; plants, animals…that kind thing, you might find that making sure others stay alive is engrained in you, like a mission.”

Elain cleared her throat. “Do you mean…healing?”

“Possibly.”

I dropped my hands and surveyed the deep, angry-looking cuts on my palms. I traced a finger along them and felt nothing… _how could I not feel anything?_ My heart thumped in my chest.

“You may have already begun showing signs,” Rhysand said, his eyes fixed on me and his voice bordering on accusatory in my ears. “Now we need to pinpoint what they are, and then harness them.”

It suddenly occurred to me that none of us had mentioned the one person missing from this conversation. “Is this what you did with Feyre? Trained her, coaxed these abilities out of her?”

Mor dropped her head and breathed a sigh. I could sense the strain between the members of this circle. They missed her. A chair beside the High Lord’s was empty, and no one else wanted to sit in it.

“Yes,” Rhysand replied, “But she was different, in that she was made by all seven High Lords, rather than the cauldron…” He stopped, and I wondered if this was the first time he’d thought of his mate this evening _. I doubt it, she’s probably all he’s thought about_.

Amren continued, “Because of this, her abilities were not decided by the Gods, but rather inherited from each High Lord.”

“So she…she has _seven_ gifts?”

Rhysand puffed his chest out and nodded. “Maybe more.”

I shirked off Cassian’s touch and rose to my feet, “And which one did _you_ give her?”

Rhysand looked confused. “I don’t know why this is relevant to our conversation, but I gave her the power of the Daemati.”

“The _what?_ ” I frowned. He scowled at me, and I realised my mood was slipping, again.

“Daemati can walk into another’s mind and…stroll around -”

“Stroll around?” I scoffed. “Can they read it?”

He bobbed his head once. “Yes.”

“My sister can read minds?” Elain gulped.

I glanced down at her, then returned my attention to him. “Can she…can _you_ , damage a mind, as well?”

“If I wanted to.”

I took a step back, my heart suddenly pounding. “Would I know, if you walked into my thoughts?”

“Yes.”

I pulled a face that clearly showed I didn’t believe him. I felt sick. These people could read minds? No wonder I’d always been afraid, I had good reason to be! All that power, all that opportunity to do harm! My eyes searched the room, and I felt my heart thumping against my chest. “So you could just take a quick look around my brain, if you wanted to?”

“Nesta,” Rhysand said lightly, ignoring the question. “How do you feel, right now?”

I glared at him, whilst the eyes of every other person focused on me. “I’m fine,” I said, through gritted teeth.

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“No.” I was.

“You’ve been angry with the world for a long time, Nesta, and now you’re angry and scared of me…of us -”

“ _Don’t_ tell me how I feel, _Rhysand._ ” His name fell from my lips with such aggression, I heard Elain gasp.   

“I’m not,” he sighed, “This is important to think about, though, Nesta. There is a strong chance that the cauldron has grasped hold of that anger, that fire within you, and concentrated it.”

I shook my head, biting down on my lower lip. My hands were shaking. “I don’t want it,” I mumbled, “I don’t want my worst qualities to become the entirety of my being.”

“That’s _not_ what’s going happen,” Rhysand responded, “You will learn how to control anything that changes or develops, and you have everything you need here to deal with this.”

I scoffed. “I am a mortal, trapped inside the body of an immortal. I’m heaven knows how far away from my home, my life…I don’t have _anything_. Meanwhile, as a male born with magic, it’s easy for you to talk.”

“Nesta,” Cassian whispered as he walked towards me, and stopped Rhysand from answering, “You have _me_ …my friendship. I told you we’ll get through this, whatever happens. Your abilities will be incredible.”

He opened his arms ready to pull me into a hug, but I slapped them away and stepped backwards. Tears began to well up in my eyes, but I saw his face, filled with sorrow, as I spoke, “No! I don’t want any of them! I don’t want to be like my sister…I _can’t_ do it! Get them _out_ of me!”

Rhysand spoke infuriatingly softly, his voice full of empathy. “We will help you with your transition. You are _not_ alone in this, Nesta.”

My mouth dropped open, but I couldn’t speak. It felt like I had been overruled by my emotions, like I was an unwilling passenger as my body was consumed with fury. I knew there was no reason for me to suddenly turn on these people, _heaven knows_ , I truly _was_ grateful for their help, but that fiery anger that had bubbled up back in Cassian’s room, that had left me bleeding…it was seeking an outlet, and it had chosen this moment.

Cassian tried once more to move towards me; his hazel eyes so beautiful, so pleading. I wanted to stand still and let him reach for me, I wanted him to pull me into his arms and protect me, from nobody but myself, but I couldn’t do it. My feet slid back, taking me out of his grasp.

“I don’t want to be here.” The words stung my lips. Cassian’s face was ashen.

Mor looked at me like I’d just slapped her across the face, and dropped her head on Azriel’s shoulder, whilst Amren dropped her hands on her hips and gazed up at the ceiling.

Rhysand tipped his head to the side and breathed, “You’re safe here.”

“Am I? Are _any_ of us? Where’s Feyre, right now?” I glared at him, “Hmm? Where is she?” I looked at my sister, flames dancing in my eyes. “Where’s _Lucien?_ They’re in the home of that _man-beast_ , who traded everyone’s safety for a woman who _hates_ him!” My shoulders heaved.

The High Lord of the Night Court sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I expected him to snap back at me, to scold me for speaking about my sister so flippantly, but he remained composed. “You are expecting everything to happen immediately.” I could tell his patience was wearing thin, of course, and I didn’t blame him one bit. I was exhausted with myself, trapped inside this body that didn’t feel like mine, certainly didn’t _look_ entirely like mine. I had been stolen from my home, made into this…angry _thing_.

I suddenly realised I’d not laid my head down for real rest since it happened. My heavy eyes expelled a few tears as I looked at Rhysand and stuttered, “I…I need to sleep. I need to get away from this conversation.”

“Very well,” he said. Cassian went to inch forward again, but Amren held out her arm in front of the wounded General and shook her head once.

Our eyes met, and I begged him silently to give me space, whilst staying close. I didn’t want to push him away. He dropped down onto one of the chairs and placed his palms together, as if in prayer, and I could’ve sworn he gave a subtle acknowledgement of my request.

Mor stood up and looked at her High Lord, “I’ll show her to her room.”

“I’ll go too,” Elain said, collecting Lucien’s jacket and walking around the back of the chairs.

Rhysand smiled at her and turned back to me, placing his long beautiful fingers on my arm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Nesta, but I promise, you will be all right. We will teach you how to control this.”

I nodded half-heartedly and walked past him, Cassian, Amren, and Azriel, who stood up as I went by, offering me a sympathetic smile. Even now, after that display of ungratefulness, of attitude, these people were still willing to offer kindness to me. In that moment, I felt like the last few hours hadn’t happened. The memory of sitting on that kitchen counter top, laughing with Cassian seemed like peering into someone else’s life.

Maybe my Fae ability was to spread misery. It certainly felt like it.

\-----------------------------

I left the room with the sound of heavy sighs and frantic whispers of Cassian and the others lingering my ears, and headed down a hallway painted in warm earth tones. Elain and Mor walked ahead, talking quietly, whilst I trailed behind, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to keep my emotions at bay.

 _Where the hell did_ that _come from, Nesta?_

I had no idea. It felt like someone had lit a firework and run away before it sparked into ferocious life. Were there two people living inside my taller, slender frame? If Rhysand had told me that was possible, I would’ve believed him, entirely.

As we turned and headed up a wide, black marble staircase, I watched Mor’s blonde, wavy hair sway gently from side to side down her back, the effect hypnotising, and then looked down at my hands again. The bloodied lines seemed to swirl clockwise for a moment. Why hadn’t I felt any pain back there? I touched the cut beneath my left index finger, pressing down hard. Nothing. I took a deep breath and pushed my thumb against another cut.

“I can’t feel pain.”

Mor ground to a halt and spun round to me, her features covered with worry. “What did you say?”

“I…” I lifted my head away from my hands and whispered, “I…I can’t feel _any_ physical pain.”

Both she and Elain stepped right up to me, and my sister grabbed my hand, holding it steady. “Nesta, where did those cuts come from?”

“Me…” I pulled my hand out of her grasp. “I did them by accident, earlier. Why can I not _feel_ anything?”

Mor tried to make her face look as serene as it normally did, but failed miserably. She was worried. “I will look into it, all right? We will find out, I promise.” Her last few words were so rushed, so tacked-on that it left me with no feeling of comfort whatsoever.

She placed a hand on my arm and flicked her head over her shoulder, to where two floor to ceiling black doors stood facing each other. “Go to your rooms, settle in, and I will be back, soon.”

I rolled my lips, and inspected my hand again. This _should_ hurt…shouldn’t it?

Mor moved back a step and rocked on her heels. “Elain, your room is on the left, Nesta’s is on the right. I hope you like them.” She almost winced as she spoke. This should’ve been a good moment, giving us our own spaces, but I’d put a dampener on things.

I didn’t want to seem completely ungrateful, though, so I walked side-by-side with Elain, and smiled at her as best I could, before we both opened the heavy doors to our rooms.

I gasped. It was a beautiful space, there was no denying it. I stepped inside and took everything in; the room was a deep shade of purple, with columns of white marble breaking up the darkness, just like in Cassian’s room; and mirrored glass furniture, decorated with intricate whirls of black and silver made the already vast room feel infinitely larger.

The wrought iron bed – my bed – stood proud in the centre of the room, draped in rich purple velvets. The entire far wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, and, with the plum curtains tied back with black velvet sashes, the twinkling stars of the night sky merged seamlessly with the ceiling of the room, which was covered in a mural of stars. It would be as if I were sleeping outside.

I turned around to find Mor in the doorway, her teeth clenched, waiting for me to tell her I hated it.

“I…I love it,” I whispered.

She released a loud breath and slammed her hand against her chest, giggling, “Oh thank goodness! I was in charge of arranging these rooms for you both, so I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” I walked over to her, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you will be happy… _happier_ …here, soon. When everything is un…under control.”

We parted, and I smiled as best I could.

Mor’s face suddenly became serious, her smile melting away. “Can you feel anything now?”

I pressed my thumb against a cut on my palm once more, and waited for a sensation; dull, sharp… _anything_. I shook my head. “No, nothing.”

“I will talk to the others.”

And with that, she gave me one final smile and turned on her heel.

\-----------------------------

An hour or two later, and I couldn’t sleep. I’d been in Elain’s room since Mor left. When she’d welcomed me in, I was taken aback by how different her room was; it was decorated in warm peach tones, with flowers of various co-ordinated hues sitting in glass vases on every available surface. Whilst my furniture was dark, or mirrored, hers was white and very elaborate. Mor got both rooms just right.

I talked with my sister for a while, both of us sitting on the bed, and was relieved to notice that the jacket had disappeared.

“Where have you put it?” I asked.

She pointed at the armoire opposite her bed. “I hid it in there,” she sighed, “I know you don’t like seeing it.”

“It’s not like that, Elain…I’m just worried that you’re putting so much emphasis on this male you’ve known for all of thirty seconds.”

She tipped her head to one side and looked at me with piercing eyes, “He was kind to me, Nesta,” she said with that beautiful, warm voice, “Far more so than Graysen ever was.”

I shrugged. I didn’t really want to start thinking about _him_. That Fae-hating thug, who I knew would have no problem slaughtering her if he found out she had been made.

“Well, never mind all of that, anyway,” she said, gently wrapping her fingers around both of my hands and tugging them towards herself. “Tell me about these cuts.”

“I…I was angry,” I whispered with a shrug. _Always angry_. “Seeing Cassian looking so…so _damaged_.” I swallowed and lifted my eyes to her, “I wanted to kill that king so badly, for what he’d done, and…I just squeezed them into fists, but -”

“You’d squeezed so tightly you hurt yourself,” Elain interrupted, finishing my thought.

I nodded, rolling my lips, “But I never felt anything.”

My sister leaned back against the headboard and breathed out a long sigh. “Do you think it’s…permanent?”

“I hope not.”

\-----------------------------

I laid in my new bed; incredibly comfortable, but wide awake. I must’ve gazed upon that starry ceiling for ages, intoxicated by its swirling plumes of green and blue amongst the darkness, the limitlessness of the sky. I rolled onto my side. Candles out in the hallway cast a flickering light under the door, and I found myself staring unblinking at the thin strip of amber, the effect mesmerizing. 

A shifting block of shadow seeped into the light, and I held my breath. _Cassian?_ It must be. Or perhaps Mor, coming back to tell me what she’d found out? Whoever it was, they lingered in front of my door for at least a minute, before a loud, assertive knock filled the air.

I climbed out of bed without a second thought. If it was Cassian, coming to check on me, I would throw the door open and kiss him. I’d wanted to do that for so long, but I felt like my breakdown had knocked us back so many steps. This would be my chance to show him how I truly felt.

Another tap on the door, this time quieter.

“I’m coming,” I said in a loud whisper, as I hurried across the room in my nightgown. _Cassian, ever patient_.

I grabbed the handle and yanked it down, slowly opening the door just enough to peak around the edge. My eyes widened.

“Hello,” Amren smiled, “I know it’s late, but Mor told me about your problem. May I come in?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Of course,” I muttered, pulling the door open wide and stepping out of Amren’s way. She moved with such beautiful, dark grace, her hips swaying gently as her silk-slippered feet caressed the floor.

She flicked her hand and the sconces between the white marble pillars roared to life. Then she turned to face me.

Her eyes were lined with deepest black, and a rich shimmer of silver and purple was streaked across the lids. Red lips were turned up in a smile, warmer and more friendly than I had expected, and her sharply cut black hair was tucked behind one ear.

I closed the door and stood there in front of her – in front of this mysterious, alluring woman – in a flimsy nightdress. I had never felt so underdressed in all my life.

“You were expecting Cassian, weren’t you?” Amren said, pulling a face of…embarrassment?  

“Erm, no…” I glanced down at myself and then grabbed a robe from the back of my door, flinging it around myself, “No, I…I wasn’t.”

Amren smiled, “He wanted to come.”

“He did?” I asked, entirely too quickly to pass it off as a casual question.

She nodded and smirked. “He was desperate to see you, and Rhys was going to let him, but I had to overrule him -”

“Why?”

“Because _I_ wanted to talk to you.” She watched as my shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, Nesta. I wouldn’t have done it, but I think we share too many similarities to ignore.”

I frowned and held my hand up in the direction of a seating area by the windows. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she began, sitting herself down and leaning back. She looked so effortless and graceful. I was envious. “Like I said, Mor told me about your problem; not feeling physical pain.”

I nodded, and sat opposite her.

She dropped her focus to her feet and flicked her slippers off, then tucked her legs underneath herself. “It happened to me too.”

“W…what?” I faltered, “When?”

“Many, many years ago, when I was made.” Her intense silver eyes pierced me. They almost blended with the white around them, giving her a true otherworldly quality.

“You weren’t b…born this way?”

“Gods, no.” She shook her head and the beads around her neck jangled. “The how and the what and the why aren’t important right now, but I was made, like you, in something akin to the cauldron.”

I gulped, unable to comprehend what she was telling me. “So…when you said earlier that _legend had it_ , you were actually speaking from…experience?”

She nodded slowly, holding my gaze. “So I know better than anyone how you will be feeling right now, Nesta.” Her face creased into a warm, friendly smile and she nestled down into the ample cushions. “Rhys told you that you weren’t on your own, and he meant it.” She raised an eyebrow to me, as if to tell me it was my turn to speak.

“All right,” I said, glancing down at my hands, “So, why can’t I feel any pain?”

“Let me ask you something… _difficult_ ; before you went into the cauldron, how did you feel?”

I groaned. Was this the _only_ question I was ever going to be asked, for the next thousand years? I dropped my shoulders and shrugged. “Anger…hatred.”

“And beneath all of that, _deep down_?”

My mouth went bone dry, and I licked my lips in a desperate attempt to replace some moisture. I was back there; I could smell that room, that stone coffin where my mortal self had been buried. “Fear. I was terrified.”

“Of what, exactly?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Of the p…” My eyes went wide, as things suddenly began to make some sense. “The _pain_. I was scared of how it would feel. The cauldron bubbled and steamed in front of me, and all I could think was; is it going to burn my skin?”

Amren observed my hands, now running up and down my arms as if trying to feel the sensation again.

“As I swore my revenge on that _bastard_ king…in my mind I was saying ‘please don’t let it hurt’.” I dropped my head, and could almost hear my own voice, mingled with Feyre’s pleas…mixed with Cassian’s. “I must’ve said it to myself, over and over again as I went under.” A single teardrop fell onto my nightgown.

Without warning, she stood up and came over to sit down beside me. She leaned in just enough to whisper gently to me, “That’s why you can’t feel any pain now, Nesta; the cauldron listened.”

I looked at her wide-eyed, “I d…don’t understand.”

“You asked for it not to hurt, so it took the feeling of physical pain away from you.”

“And it happened to you, too?”

She rolled her vivid red lips and gave a slow nod of her head, “Yes.”

“Will I…” I swallowed, “Did _you_ get it back?”

She nodded again, “I did…though now and then it disappears again.” The corner of her mouth curled up ever so slightly, and those silver eyes flashed, “But that’s probably because I have no use for it, after living as long as I have. I’ve felt every possible pain.”

I felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over me as I covered my face with both hands and sobbed, sobbed, sobbed. It was like a tidal surge of relief; someone understood. I wasn’t going insane…I was _different_ , inside as well as out, but I wasn’t alone.

Amren dropped her hand on my back, and swept it round in a circle. She was letting me know she was here for me. “It _will_ come back, Nesta…and the more you want it, the more you fight for it, the quicker it will return.”

I nodded my acknowledgement of her words, but continued sobbing like a child. 

A few minutes passed, and the crying began to subside. I looked down at my lap to see the stains of my teardrops on the silk night dress. I felt quite foolish. _Why?_ I didn’t even know.

“ _So_ …” Amren grinned, deciding that now was the perfect moment to change the subject, “Anyway, you and Cassian, huh?”

I spluttered out a laugh through my tears as she nudged me with her elbow, “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, _gods!_ I hope you’re not trying to convince yourself of _that!_ ” She chuckled, before patting me on the shoulder and slouching back against the cushioned arm of the chair.

“How do you know anything about it?”

She pulled a face. “Oh, please.”

“Well…” I shrugged and slapped my hands against my thighs, “I can’t…I -”

“You can’t _what?_ Go for it?” She waved me off and glanced up at the ceiling that was peppered with stars. “Cassian is crazy about you…then again, some might see he’s just crazy, full stop.”

I laughed – properly this time, no tears, no embarrassment – and shifted to face her, mirroring her seating position as I wiped my damp cheeks with the sleeves of my robe. “I know what Cassian is like, Amren. I’m sure he’s just looking for another notch on his bedpost.”

She smirked and began running the beads of her necklace through her fingers, her gaze fixed on me. She reminded me of a cat, toying with a mouse. “I’ll admit, Cassian is a hot-headed warrior, whose main goal in life has been to get as many women into bed as possible -”

“You’re not selling this to me very well.”

She threw her head back and howled with laughter, “I’m not, am I!”

I joined in with the giggling, and tucked my knees up under my chin, wrapping my arms around my legs. I felt so comfortable around her, like I’d known her all my life.

“Anyway, anyway, as I was saying; _yes_ , that’s how Cassian has been for a lot of the time I’ve known him, _but_ …” She calmed down and squinted her eyes as she looked at me, “But you’ve brought out a very different side to him, Nesta. Earlier on, when you, erm -”

“Had a meltdown,” I scoffed.

“ _Or_ a perfectly reasonable reaction to your new life, your new surroundings.” She shrugged, “Either way, the point is I’ve never seen him look so concerned, so desperate to reach out to someone… _ever_.”

I pulled a face, “Really?”

She nodded with great enthusiasm, “ _Really_. And trust me, I’ve known him for _hundreds_ of years.”

I felt warmth rise in my cheeks, but didn’t say anything else. Judging by the look Amren gave me, I didn’t need to. She knew that his feelings were my feelings. This mysterious woman really did have me all figured out.

We spent the next hour sat on those big comfy chairs, gossiping about Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel; about their wild adventures as young Illyrian warriors, their romantic escapades – and there were _a lot_ – and the challenges they’d faced over the years. It was fascinating, and as we talked, I realised something.

For the first time in my whole life, I experienced what it must be like to have a friend; to not be judged, nor dismissed or lectured, but to simply enjoy someone’s company, their stories. I felt…young. I felt normal. And it had taken a horrific experience to find this.

* * *

Amren left in the early hours of the morning, at which point I crawled into bed and flopped down under the covers. As I closed my eyes, I decided that I was going to sleep in until midday. To hell with training, this had been one of the longest days of my life.

* * *

The rest of the week went by without too much fuss. I avoided Cassian as best I could, unsure of how we were supposed to get back to where we’d been in that kitchen, on that balcony. On a day when I saw him, my heart fluttered, and when he offered me an uncharacteristically timid smile, I wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, but I didn’t. I simply nodded at him; a curt, emotionless expression that gave him no indication of how we were doing. My stomach twisted in knots.

 _Why are you pushing him away?_ Heaven knows.

For the most part, he spent his time in one of the large gymnasiums with Azriel, trying to regain his strength. I felt so proud of him as I observed from afar, as I thought about how he hadn’t moved from his bed from the time of his injury, until I arrived. We shared a connection, a bond, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind.

The fact that he hadn’t pushed me, hadn’t come to see me…I was pleased. He knew I needed space, and after Amren had told me how desperately he wanted to see me, I knew, deep in my heart, that he was simply doing as I’d asked of him. And I _would_ come back to him, to whatever was growing between us.

I just needed to get my new life under control.

* * *

 

Just over a week had now passed since my sister and I had arrived at the House of Wind, and I was beginning to feel at home here. Most mornings I would eat breakfast with Elain, and Amren – though she never actually ate anything – and then Mor would arrive to fill us in on the previous night’s events; if Rhysand had been in contact with Feyre, or if there had been any movement near the wall between Prythian and the mortal lands.

Today, though, was a little different.

I sat at a large circular stone table on the balcony looking out over Velaris below, and polishing off a plate of fruit and pastries. My eyes flitted occasionally between my sister, who was enjoying a bowl of porridge, and Amren, who sat politely sipping a cup of herbal tea whilst taking no joy from it. The sun was warm and comforting against my back, cooled to the perfect temperature by the gentle breeze that drifted past and ruffled the excess material of my long green silk dress.

From the corner of my eye I spotted Mor - her blonde hair in bouncy curls today - marching towards us with a look of sheer exasperation on her face.

“Good morning,” Elain smiled at her. Mor flashed a weak smile and dropped into a chair like a lump of stone.

“Men?” Amren smirked with a raised eyebrow, lifting her focus from her teacup. I chuckled to myself at the sight of her little finger sticking up.

“Men,” Mor groaned, and reached forward for an apple. She fell against the back of the chair and took a huge bite of the shiny green fruit, and spoke, “Remind me; what _exactly_ are they for?”

“It’s too early in the morning to answer that question,” Amren grinned, and winked at me.

I felt my cheeks flush red for a second. I returned to focusing on my breakfast.

“What’s wrong?” Elain asked.

“Rhys has decided that you and Nesta should learn how to defend yourselves.” My pointed ears pricked up. “And he wants Azriel to do it.”

“Oh dear,” Amren winced.

Elain frowned. “So, what’s the problem?”

I threw her a look and swallowed a half-chewed piece of melon.

Mor gave a heavy sigh, “Cassian isn’t happy about it.”

“Oh, I bet.” Amren replaced her teacup in its saucer and laughed openly, “So what happened?”

“They got into a fight,” Mor huffed, “An all-out brawl that was still on-going when I turned on my heels and left. Children!”

I’d sat on the side-lines long enough, keeping my mouth shut. Now, as all three women turned to me, I spoke, “How can he train us, when he’s injured?”

“ _Precisely!_ ” Mor agreed, “And that’s what I said, what Rhysand said…what Azriel said! But he wasn’t having any of it, and launched himself at Az.”

“What did Rhysand do?”

She shrugged, “Nothing, just left them to it. Cassian’s a fool, sometimes! He doesn’t think about the damage he could do to himself.” She took another bite of the apple, calming herself down, and stared out over the wall towards the city and the sea beyond.

“Nesta,” Amren said quietly. I jerked my head to her. “Maybe you should go and speak to him, see if you can calm him down.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked, feeling my hands begin to sweat. I hadn’t uttered a word to him for so long now.

She nodded and took another sip of tea, and that was that. Decision made.

I pulled my napkin off my lap and dropped it on the table, then patted Elain’s hand and rose from my chair. The wind whipped my hair up and forward onto my face, and for a moment I could’ve sworn it was trying to push me towards that Illyrian warrior.

I looked to Amren again - a silent plea to let me stay here - but she simply smiled at me, and returned to her tea, her little finger shooting upwards.

* * *

The gymnasium was empty when I walked in, except for the faint specs of dust that danced in the streams of brilliant sunshine that burst through the windows.

“Cassian?” I called into the vast space. No answer.

I glided across the beech wood floor in my slippers, my skirt trailing behind me, and headed for the centre of the room. There were spots of blood on the floor, and a broken chair beside the far wall. I knew instantly who’d thrown that. I rolled my eyes and turned around, “Azriel? Rhysand?” Still no one responded.

I braced my hands on my hips and groaned, loudly; there had been no real reason for this fight. Cassian was in no physical state to go ten rounds with Elain, let alone Azriel, and he knew that…he _had_ to know that.  Still, it had happened, and I could almost hear the fracas, almost see it; Rhysand being his usual excruciatingly calm self, Azriel caught between wanting to help his friend, but also needing him to see that he was wrong…and poor Mor, stuck in the middle, trying to calm down a five-hundred-year old child.

And all of it because of _me_.

I released a sigh and lifted my head to the ceiling.

A shuffling noise came swiftly from behind me, and I spun around to find Cassian leaning against the doorway; wings folded awkwardly, hands stuffed into the pockets of low-slung trousers, chest bare. He looked at me with the biggest eyes, filled with equal parts embarrassment and shame.

I pulled my shoulders back, trying to appear indifferent. “Who won?” I said across the empty, echoing room.

He shrugged, “No one, not really.”

I took a step forward. “Why did you do it, Cassian?” I threw my hands out wide, “Why fight with your best friend?” I already knew the answer.

“If _you’re_ going to fight, Nesta, I _have_ to be the one to teach you,” he said with such determination, such defiance, I felt myself pulled towards him immediately.

“Why?” I groaned, as I crossed the floor.

He dropped his head back and then slid round the doorway and into the room, pressing himself against the wall. The pain, the agony in his face nearly made me fall to my knees. Though his wings looked the same – battered and scarred, but healing slowly – his body was covered in bruises and marks where Azriel’s siphons had fired warning shots.

I ran the rest of the way and came to a halt mere inches from him, my hands landing on his chest. “What the hell?!” I gasped, tears cresting my eyes. “Look at the state of you!”

He rolled his lips and looked down at me through his dark hair, those hazel eyes boring into my soul. “I _have_ to do it, Nesta…for my own sanity, my own selfishness. I _have_ to teach you, because I need to know you’re safe, you’re well trained, you’re -”

“I would be all of those things with _Azriel_ teaching me. You know that,” I interrupted, brushing my fingertips along the angry red marks. He winced at the sudden pain and I pulled away, but he wrapped his strong hand gently around my wrist and placed it back on his sun-kissed chest, holding it there. Just like he’d done at the manor house, by the fireplace. A lump lodged itself in my throat, and in this moment, I wasn’t sure if it would ever be gone.

His free hand brushed away a stray strand of hair from my face, and settled against my cheek. “When Rhys and Amren were explaining your new world to you, when you said you didn’t want what was coming…I knew then and there that if _I_ showed you, if _I_ was the one to introduce you to this life…” He dropped his head and loosed a breath. “Maybe then you would stay…and you would be by my side.”


	8. Chapter 8

My bottom lip quivered. Cassian’s heart thumped against his chest, and, as if it were calling to me, mine immediately did the same. I gulped and whispered, “I’m sorry I pushed you away at the meeting.”

He looked at me. He looked _through_ me. “I’m not.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had a week of this searing pain in my heart, in my head. I forgot about my injuries, I was just so… _consumed_ with missing you.” His eyes swept across my face, as if he were trying to memorise every freckle, ever feature, just in case. “Being apart has made me realise just how much I want to be near you, Nesta.”

He stared at me, waiting for me to respond, and I didn’t take a moment to overthink it. A sudden surge of courage - or perhaps recklessness – welled up inside of me and propelled me forwards, my eyes falling closed as my lips crashed into his. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer as we both settled into the kiss. All thoughts of broken wings, of the cauldron and its cruelty, drifted away.

He drew his calloused hands up my back, brushing them against my bare shoulders and sliding them around to my face, warming them in the heat of my cheeks. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing to me, and I felt him smile against me as I let out a faint moan. His lips were so soft; I could’ve stayed pressed against them for a hundred years.

My lips parted and immediately his did the same. _Heavens above_ , it was incredible. My hands slipped up into his hair, making fists in the long, dark strands, and I realised that this was it; I had fallen completely and utterly for this man. His hands moved dangerously close to the thin strap of my dress, and I knew that if he ran his finger underneath it, if he moved it out of the way and let my dress fall, I wouldn’t stop him. If he wanted me right here, right now, I was all in.

His tongue flicked against mine, as he firmly ran his fingers down my arms and moved them back to my waist. I could almost smell the desire building up inside of him, pushing against him, yearning to be let out. But then he pulled his mouth away from mine, and dropped his head against the curve between my neck and shoulder. He breathed against my skin, and shivers ran the length of my body as my eyes flitted open.

“Nesta,” he whispered, before lifting his head to look at me. His chest rose and fell in short sharp bursts, like he’d just flown a thousand miles, and those beautiful hazel eyes…they were hungry.

“I…I think…” I stuttered, unable to think clearly, only just realising that I instigated the kiss. _Me_. “Should I not have -”

His eyes went wide, “No, no, no.” He placed his hands either side of my face again and kissed me softly, “You certainly _should_ have, Nesta Archeron.” A smile spread across his face, and my body began shaking. “But we can’t go further…not here, not now.”

I pulled a face that must have looked like I was calling him a spoilsport, because that smile of his turned into a wicked grin, and before I had time to react other than to release a tiny screech of a laugh, he spread his wings, yanked me towards him, and kissed me with such deep, intense passion, I would’ve fallen down had he not held me so tightly.

My eyes flicked open. Someone was approaching the room. I pushed back, my entire body pulsing, and stepped away. We stared at each other, taking heavy breaths…ready to pounce.  

Cassian let out a low growl, but suddenly looked at the doorway to his left, folding his wings and settling back against the wall just as Rhysand and Azriel walked into the gym.

“Rhys,” Cassian said with a nod. “Az.”

His High Lord returned the gesture and looked at me. “Were we…interrupting something?”

_Shit, he knows._

I gave both men a laid-back smile and lazily pushed my fingers through my hair, “No, not at all.”

Rhysand turned back to Cassian just in time to catch the wink he gave me. Prick.

“Are we in agreement, now? Azriel is to tra -”

“No,” I said assertively, as I turned and picked up a heavy wooden fighting stick. I felt the weight of it, the perfect balance of it. “I want _Cassian_ to teach me how to fight, and that’s the end of it.” Azriel’s eyebrows shot up, and i could’ve sworn a surge of darkness swelled up around him. I threw the stick to Cassian, just for an excuse to watch those sculpted, tanned arms reach up to catch it. “See you first thing tomorrow morning,” I purred, and winked at him.

He laughed under his breath, and all that the three winged males could do was watch as I sauntered from the room, feeling more alive than I had _ever_ done in my mortal life.

* * *

I awoke the next morning bright and early, sharing breakfast with my sister and Amren without much conversation, before we headed to the gymnasium for our first day of training.

Amren came up alongside me as we entered the room, and nudged me with her elbow. “Good luck today,” she whispered.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t break him.”

I halted in my tracks, ready to snap back that _of course_ I would be mindful of his injuries, but the wicked smirk on her face made me realise that _wasn’t_ what she was implying. I sniggered and rolled my eyes, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She raised those black eyebrows at me as she walked backwards, then turned and meandered over to Rhysand, who was stood talking to Cassian and Azriel. Mor rushed over to me, approaching at the same time as Elain, and bid us both good morning. 

“Are you ready?” she asked us. My sister and I nodded. “No injuries or concerns or anything at all?”

“Nope, none,” I said, ringing my hands. 

“Excellent.”

Cassian leaned back slightly to peek out from behind Azriel, and flashed me a broad smile over Mor’s shoulder. My cheeks went bright red.

Elain inhaled a deep breath and asked, “So how will this work, then?”

“Well,” Mor said, moving to stand between us and turning round to face the room, “You will be trained by Azriel, and Nesta is to be trained by Cassian.”

“How can _that_ happen?” my sister frowned, glancing at me, “He’s injured.”

Mor shrugged and huffed out a breath, “I have no idea…he managed to convince Rhys to let him do it, somehow.”

I willed my face to remain expressionless, when all I really wanted was to grin from ear to ear. I caught his eye again. My word, _that face_. There wasn’t a single mortal man who could come close to being as beautiful, as sculpted… As he returned to the conversation before him, I was sure he could sense me continuing to stare at him, because he ran his fingers slowly through his thick dark hair, and smirked. My knees went weak. _Good grief, Nesta, pull yourself together_.

“We should get ready,” I suddenly said, interrupting Mor, “Excuse us.” I grabbed my sister’s elbow and tugged her over to a set of thick, padded mats that were sprawled across the floor.

“What’s wrong,” Elain frowned, before glancing over her shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing. I just needed to get -”

“Away from Cassian’s stare?” she interrupted, eyebrow raised, arms folded. My face reddened again. “Something happen between you two?” My sweet sister was now grinning like a cat.

“No…erm, not really.” I looked away from her and gathered my hair up into a bun.

“ _Nesta_ …”

“ _Elain_.” I secured my hair with a pin and faced her. We held each other’s stare for a moment, then burst into giggles. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed with her, and it was wonderful.

* * *

Cassian stood before me, his knees slightly bent, his wings spread, his torso peppered with cuts and bruises. His hands were slightly in front of him, and he snarled through his teeth. “Try it again.”

“No…” I replied, pressing the back of my bandage-wrapped hand against my lip. _Bleeding, damn_. “You very nearly screamed in pain, Cassian. This was a bad idea.”

“ _Again_.” There wasn’t a hint of good humour or kindness in his words, his mannerisms. The kiss we’d shared yesterday seemed to have been forgotten entirely.

I shook my head and stood up straight, as I began unfurling the bandages and clenching and unclenching my fist. Light bruises snaked around my knuckles, but no pain. And we’d been at this for two hours.

“Ignore my injuries, Nesta.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you…no, _told_ you to train me.” I glanced over at Elain and Azriel, who looked to be making swift progress. “I’m sorry about that.”

Cassian relaxed his stance and pressed a palm against his forehead. “I am fine; why won’t you believe me?”

“Why won’t..?” I huffed and marched towards him, pressing my hand against his left wing. He had to fight to keep his knees locked as the pain rippled through him. I let go. “ _That’s_ why! And when I accidentally kicked your wing I got your elbow in my face!”

“I’m sorry about that. There’s always accidents in training.”

I scoffed and checked my lip again.

“Is it bad?”

“It’ll heal, and besides, it’s not like I can feel it.” He took a step towards me, but I backed away, again. _Always backing away from him_. “This was a mistake; I’ll ask -”

“Nesta, don’t.”

“Is there a problem?” Rhysand said as he approached the mat with that cool, dark air of mystery.

“No, everything’s _fine_ , Rhys,” Cassian growled, his eyes locked on mine, his hands curling into fists of frustration, not rage.

“This isn’t working out, is it. Would you like to train with Azriel instead, Nesta? Give Cassian some time to heal, properly,” the High Lord asked, ignoring his friend. His brows were furrowed. This was no _told you so_ look, thank goodness.

I looked to Cassian, his eyes pleading. My mind told me to say yes; I should let him rest and get better without the added strain of my uncontrollable limbs hitting his wings. And yet…

“Nesta?” Rhysand whispered, just loud enough to pull me back into the room.

Cassian shifted his weight, and dropped his head.

“No, thank you, Rhys,” I finally said. Cassian’s hands relaxed by his sides. “I think we’re done for today, but we’ll be back to it tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Rhysand smiled, as Cassian gave me a nod of appreciation. The High Lord of the Night Court turned to his general and began talking so quietly I couldn’t even begin to listen. I took that as my cue to leave.

I adjusted my hair and headed out, passing by Elain and Azriel as she kicked a pad in his hands with quiet ferocity. I smiled at her, watching as Azriel gave her a pat on the shoulder. _Well done, little sister._ Maybe she would be a good fighter, after all. Better than me, I would wager.

* * *

I didn’t see Cassian again for the rest of the day, choosing instead to lounge in my room, reading a book that Mor had given me earlier that week; _Life After Living_. It was written by someone who had been mortal, then made in the cauldron, and it was fascinating. As I devoured the pages, I came to the conclusion that Amren had probably written this book a thousand years ago, and the thought made me chuckle.

* * *

The night was cool, a delicate breeze wafting in through the open windows, carrying with it a scent of salt and pine. 

A flash of bare skin swept across my vision.

_Huh?_

Heavy breathing, in sync with another’s as hands caressed a face, a chest. The figure before me was cast in shadow, the light from the open windows behind silhouetting them as soft moans echoed around the room. Hands slid up their sides, coming to rest on their waist.

 _My_ waist.

_What in heavens?_

A strip of light brushed across my features as I leaned forwards to kiss…

“What the..?” I gasped into the air as I shot bolt upright in bed. My mouth gaped and I looked either side of my king-size bed. Empty. _Of course it was empty_. I glanced down. Button down silk pyjamas.

I shook my head and flung the covers back, planting my feet firmly on the cool tiles of the darkened room. My heart pounded, and all I could see was…myself? _What the hell??_

Who…what…how?

I toyed with the idea of running to Amren’s room, or even Rhysand’s to tell them what I’d seen, what I’d felt…but then a wave of embarrassment swept over me and I returned to the warmth of my bed, and laid with my eyes wide open for goodness knows how long, just staring up at the night sky painted on the ceiling.

 _Cassian_ …it must’ve been Cassian that I was with.

It damn well better be.

Eventually, I forced myself to close my eyes, all the while praying to whatever god or goddess I was supposed to pray to now, in the hope that I wouldn’t have that dream again.


	9. Chapter 9

My next training session with Cassian – alone in the gymnasium at the crack of dawn - started out awkwardly, to say the least. He held pads up in front of his chest, and I punched each in turn on his command, but I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t know if what I’d seen in that flash of bare skin and moonlight had been a figment of my imagination or his…and I wasn’t sure if I _wanted_ to know.

“Right.”

Punch.

“Left.”

Punch.

“Left, left.”

Punch, punch.

On and on we went, for what must’ve been hours. He’d brought in the pads to keep me away from his wings, I was certain of that, but it also helped to have a bit of distance between us.

“Right, right.”

Punch, punch.

“Left hand, right pad.”

I did as I was told.  

“Again,” he demanded.

I punched; one, two, three, my lungs burning, while sweat rolled down my face. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew my muscles must be aching, screaming out for a rest. I continued. Strands of hair slipped from my ponytail and stuck to my cheeks, irritating me, but again, I continued, not letting anything pull me away from my task, my training.

“All right, Nesta,” Cassian said with soft calm.

I ignored him and punched, punched, punched, my teeth now gritted as I pushed myself to my limits.

 _One._ That was for the king.

 _Two._ For Tomas Mandray.

 _Three._ Those mortal queen bitches.

 _Four._ For my useless father.

 _Five. Six. Seven._ For me, for my stubbornness, my selfishness.

“Nesta,” Cassian said again, and dropped his hands, letting the pads fall to the floor.

I didn’t notice until I tried to strike again and he braced my clenched fist in his hand, his grip firm, but his touch gentle, kind. My eyes finally lifted to his features, concern written across his face as he took both hands and ran his thumbs across the knuckles.

“My darling.” His voice was so soft, I could’ve wept. “You can’t even tell, can you?”

I frowned and tore my eyes away from his, to my hands. The white bandages around my knuckles were worn out and soaked in blood. They should’ve been stinging, but I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

“We need to be careful of this kind of thing,” Cassian sighed, touching them again, before his eyes drifted to mine. “Otherwise, when the sensations return, you might find yourself bombarded with pain all over your body.” He smiled at me sympathetically and placed a kiss delicately against the cuts.

I wanted to pull my hands away, I wanted to run away from this ridiculous situation; mortal made immortal, no pain, nothing but fear…and that damned _dream_. Seeing through his eyes. Those beautiful hazel eyes that looked down on me right now, that saw through me in different ways. I wished I could pull myself from his hold and turn and run, run, run until I was at the water’s edge and could throw myself into it.

But I wasn’t going to move. My feet were planted firmly on the floor.

“Cassian,” I whispered, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he smiled again. “Ask me anything you like.”

“Do you…do you dream?”

His smile seemed to freeze in place, whilst his mind raced. “Erm, no. We Fae don’t really do that sort of thing. Why?”

“Oh, right. Never mind, then. It…it was nothing, no reason.” I tugged my hands out of his grip and began peeling away the bloodied bandages. “So, erm, what’s n-next for you to teach me?”

Cassian frowned and mirrored my movements as I began pacing back and forth, my focus still trained on my hands. “Nesta, why did you ask that question?”

“It doesn’t matter, _honestly_.” I gave him an awkward smile, more of a pained wince if I was being completely honest, and crouched down to start my leg stretches.

He stopped moving and planted his hands on his waist - his deceptively small waist, compared to the width of his shoulders. “Nesta Archeron,” he said with a stony face.

I stood up straight. “Forget about it.”

“I don’t want to. Why did you ask the question?”

“ _Cassian_.”

“Tell me…please.”

“Fine!” I cringed, throwing my arms up. “I saw you…no, I saw _me_. Us.” My shoulders slumped. “ _Together_.” My face turned the colour of tomatoes, and turned a shade deeper and deeper as his expression morphed from confusion to realisation.

“You saw…us? _Together_ , together?”

I rolled my lips and nodded. “Yep. The whole thing…nothing left to the imagination.”

“Oh gods,” he said with a faint chuckle, “Well…it _must_ have been your dream. I mean, you’ve never been with anybody before so perhaps you -”

I shook my head. “I saw it from _your_ point of view, through _your_ eyes.”

He had to hold back a gasp. “Oh _gods!_ ”

I dropped my head into my hands, feeling so embarrassed I wanted the earth to devour me. “I can’t believe I told you this.” He didn’t say anything; no crude response, no telling me it was a figment of my imagination…nothing. I lifted my head to look at him.

He was still, his eyes wide.

“Cas-Cassian,” I breathed, inching towards him. “What’s wrong?”

He snapped out of his trance and took my hand. “We need to see Rhys, immediately.”  
  


* * *

 

When we arrived in the living area, Rhysand was sat within the circle of comfy chairs with his eyes closed, leaning against the arm of the chair and resting his left index finger against his temple. He looked peaceful, contemplative in the warm morning sunshine. I hated disturbing him.

Cassian led me across the room and stopped in front of him. “Rhy-”

The High Lord held up a finger to cut him off. His eyebrows knitted together, and I knew exactly what he was doing. We waited for a minute or two before he opened his eyes and smiled warmly at us. “My apologies,” he said to us both.

“You were communicating with Feyre…weren’t you?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Is she…” I rolled my lips, “Is she all right over there?”

“She’s strong,” was all he would say in response.

Cassian kept his mouth closed as Rhysand and I retreated into ourselves for a moment; me for my missing sister, he for his mate…

Then Rhysand snapped out of it with a shake of his head and looked up at his general. “You wanted to see me?”

Cassian tugged me forward another step and stroked his thumb down my bloodied hand as he spoke, “Nesta’s had a…erm…an unusual dream.”

Both sets of eyes turned to me. “Oh?”

So I repeated my mortifying story again, glaring at Cassian now and then as he moved to stand slightly behind Rhysand’s eye line, and proceeded to smirk at me. Prick.

When I finished retelling what I’d seen, what I’d felt, Rhysand rose from his chair and squinted, surveying me.

“What do you think?” Cassian asked, “Is she…like you? Like Feyre?”

“It certainly seems so but…” The High Lord’s face became almost hauntingly still, his focus trained on me. _We’ll have to test the theory._

“What do you mean, _test_ it?” I frowned, realising what had happened as the words tumbled from my lips.

“Huh?” Cassian replied.

Rhysand tapped his temple and smiled, just a little. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

“I…I…” I must’ve lookedso gormless, but I couldn’t think of a single word to say.

Cassian just turned to his High Lord and said, “I’m not imagining it. She’s like you, isn’t she.” It wasn’t a question.

“I had wondered for some time,” Rhysand replied, his eyes fixed on me and my blank stare. “And it seems my hunch was correct; you are displaying the basic power of the Daemati, Nesta.”

I felt like I’d been hit by one of my own punches, right to my stomach. “No…” I breathed. I whirled to the side, the room spinning.

I only heard the distant echo of my name being shouted before I collapsed to the floor, and everything went dark.  
  


* * *

 

I awoke in the soft light of my bedroom with the breeze of the open windows caressing my skin. As my eyes drifted open, the first thing I saw was Cassian, perched on the edge of my bed, his hand delicately brushing up and down my arm. When he saw me, he smiled and squeezed my hand tightly, then looked over his shoulder. “Rhys.”

_Hello, Nesta._

My focus snapped to the High Lord of the Night Court walking towards the foot of my bed. His face looked serene, beautiful, with those midnight eyebrows and violet irises soft as they held me in place.

 _You gave us quite a fright…_ He tipped his head towards Cassian. _…especially this one._

“Stop that,” I demanded, jerking my head to one side in hopes of shaking him off.

Rhysand didn’t even flinch.

 _You’ve found your calling, and it must not be ignored. It_ cannot _be ignored any longer._

“ _No_ ,” I hissed, “Pain insensitivity is my calling, _that_ is what we should utilise. Let me fight with it, let me walk through fire to kill that bastard king.”

Cassian shook his head as he dropped it forward, his hair shielding his face from me. “Nesta, no,” he whispered, “Not being able to feel pain doesn’t stop you getting hurt.” He brushed his fingertips over my wounded knuckles and I could feel his heartache, feel it writhing around inside him like a wretched serpent.

 _I wish you didn’t have it in the first place,_ Rhysand continued, _Pain insensitivity is_ not _sustainable._

“Why not?”

_It isn’t safe._

“Why not? Speak to me properly, Rhysand!”

“It is _dangerous_ , Nesta!” he growled, his fists slamming against the footboard. Cassian leaped to his feet as my eyes went wide at the sight of Rhysand’s wings, suddenly spread so wide they soaked up all the light in the room. Tendrils of darkness swirled around him, those violet eyes the only colour piercing through. His chest heaved with frustration, with anger. “You _cannot_ continue to push back at every turn, because we are going to _war_ – one which both you _and_ your sisters are caught up in – and we have to stop wasting time on your tantrums!”

“Rhys, _stop!_ ” Cassian barked in response, extending his own damaged wings as he stood beside my bed. My eyes never left the angry male at the foot of my bed.

“No!” the High Lord seethed. “She needs to listen to me, and to you!”

Cassian clenched and unclenched his fists, poised for a fight. “Leave her alone.”

Rhysand continued to glare at me. “I’ve remained impassive the entire time whilst you have verbally attacked my third in command, whilst you have snarled and snapped at me, at…Cassian. Even your _sister_ hasn’t been immune to your attitude in this house, Nesta!”

“That’s _enough_ , Rhys!” Cassian shouted as he stepped toward his friend. Both puffed out their chests. He loomed large on his High Lord. “This is not helpful!”

“Let him finish,” I interrupted, tears cresting my eyes.

Cassian spun round to me. “But, Nesta -”

“ _Let him finish_.” I gulped, forcing down a lump in my throat. I stared at Rhysand, and silently, wordlessly begged him to finish whatever he had to say. Whatever else I had to hear.

“I need your skills, your fae abilities, Nesta. I need you in the fight, but using your mind, harnessing that anger in a way that will aid our cause.”

“What about fighting?” I whispered. “That’s why I thought that my lack of feeling might -”

Rhysand lifted his hand. “Elain is proving herself more than capable of aiding us on that front.”

“Elain?”

He smiled lightly. “Yes. Azriel is a very good teacher.”

Cassian retreated back to the bed as his wings slacked off a bit. His body still ached with built up tension.

I took a slow, shaky breath of air and whispered, “What can I do, then?”

Slowly, cautiously, Rhysand retracted his wings, and moved around to the opposite side of my bed. Cassian huffed out a breath through his nostrils, but now I could almost feel his muscles relaxing.

Rhysand placed his calloused hand gently on my arm, holding my focus. _I think you have the potential to do more than any of us can possibly imagine, so long as you control your anger._

I winced at the voice in my head, but didn’t protest.

 _You want to kill the king?_ His eyebrows darted up.

My eyes narrowed. _Yes._

_Help us, Nesta Archeron, and I will not stand in your way._

My focus drifted to Cassian once more; who looked at me, not with the cold, questioning eyes that had been trained on his friend, but with…wonder? Amazement, like I was a jewel he’d set eyes on for the very first time.

He took my injured hand, and I felt his pulse, the life flowing through him. I didn’t want to peer into his mind, decided then and there that I never would, but, looking into his eyes, I knew I didn’t need to. I wanted to be with him, I wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with him when the battles began, even if I didn’t make it to the other side.

I knew what I had to do.

I sighed heavily and turned back to the High Lord of the Night Court. _All right_ , I said without uttering a word, _I’m in_.  


End file.
